Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil
by Time Traverser
Summary: England needs help. Harry Potter has been lucky so far, but the Boy Who Lived is going into his third year, and threats loom on the horizon. Watch as the Golden Trio gets help from a shy Canadian, a reluctant American, and an odd Englishman. Takes place in the third year, rated T. NO ROMANCE!
1. Chapter 1

Canada, was with America at his Virginia home. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the wind whistled softly through the trees, and England was bickering with his host.

"It's true, magic is real."

"No, it isn't!"

"Yes, it is."

"Nope!"

Canada sighed from tan couch and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the inevitable headache. They were arguing _again_. Not only were they arguing, but they were arguing about a subject he felt was long exhausted.

"How can you refute the evidence _right in front of you_?" England demanded, waving a thin wooden stick in front of America's face.

The taller nation pushed the stick away in annoyance. "Like this!" He squeezed his eyes shut, stuck his fingers in his ears, and turned his back on England singing, "La, la, la! I can't hear you! See no weird, hear no weird, _speak no weird!_" He walked out the door, and into the hall.

"But you _have_ a magic school! In Massachusetts!" England yelled exasperatedly. "I saw it on the way here from the plane!" He gestured at the air wildly.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" America yelled back from his kitchen, his voice reverberating throughout the house. One could hear the faint sound of the refrigerator opening.

England plopped down on the couch next to Canada and put his head in his hands. "Is he just in denial?"

Canada shrugged, fiddling with his hoodie and staring into the empty fireplace in front of him. "I'm not sure. But I've seen enough in my lifetime to believe you."

"Could you talk some sense into the boy?" England pleaded urgently. "I need _both_ of you to believe!"

"Why?" Canada asked, alarmed at hearing such a distraught tone.

England leaned back on the couch. "I have something to ask of you two. I'll tell you when that stubborn yankee gets back."

Canada studied England closely from his seat. The elder nation looked...almost sick. It wasn't really anything apparently wrong with him physically, but the way his shoulders sagged, and how he glared at every shadow as if afraid it would eat him...something was wrong. If only Canada knew _what_.

America came back into the room, a can of Cola in hand. He held out a second one. "Anyone want one?"

England waved it off dismissively. "Your soda is much too sweet for me."

Canada accepted the second can with a nod. He cracked it open and waited.

America sat in a recliner to the left of the couch. "So," he asked, draping one leg over the other. "did you come here just to argue, or do you have another reason for your visit?"

England took a deep breath and said, "I need you two to enroll at Hogwarts, and keep an eye on a young boy named Harry Potter."

"Who's that?" Canada asked curiously.

"Where's that?" America asked at the same time.

"It's a school, for witches and wizards," England stated almost proudly.

"Dude, did you miss that _entire conversation_ we just had like, five minutes ago?" America scoffed. "Magic still isn't real."

Canada and quickly decided to stop the argument before it could restart. "England, would you mind giving America and I a moment of privacy? I need to speak to him."

England reluctantly inclined his head. America sighed and got up from his seat, following Canada into the kitchen.

"Wassup?" America asked casually.

Canada folded his arms. "Have you _seen_ how England has been acting lately?"

America frowned and threw his empty can into the trash bin. "Yeah-"

Canada cut him off, gesturing with his thumb back to the living room. "Don't you think you could humor him? Just for now? He obviously needs help." Canada then pointed at his brother. "So do you."

America cocked his head to the side uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean _that you're in denial, and this is the best way to snap you out of it," Canada shot back irritatedly.

America narrowed his eyes for a moment. He then moved to place his hand on Canada's forehead. "Are you running a fever...?"

Canada smacked America's hand away. "Stop it! I _know_ you're not that stupid, so stop playing at it! You've seen _plenty_ of magic. You've seen it performed _right in front of you_! We are going to help England if I have to drag you kicking and screaming!" Canada huffed and fell silent with clenched fists, waiting for an answer.

America was quiet, the gears evidently turning in his head. He grimaced and finally said, "Fine, but you _owe_ me."

The blue eyed nation turned on his heel and stalked back to the living room. He composed himself and plastered an easy smile on his face as he entered the room and sat back in the recliner. "Alright then! Let's do this thing!"

England looked like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, "Really? Oh, wonderful!" He stood up, and paced the fireplace, "Alright then. We go to Diagon Alley next week. You two," he pointed at both Nations, "must meet at my house by Friday. We'll hammer out the details then." He had a smile on his face as he pulled out the stick from before, "I will see you both then!" There was a rush of wind and a flash of light, and the green eyed nation was gone, leaving only stray papers from the wind.

Canada turned toward his wide eyed brother, "How would you rationally explain _that _one away? Oh, Not-Superstitious One?

America placed a finger on his chin as if heavily considering it. "Um...crop circles?"

Canada facepalmed.

* * *

><p><strong>And so, by popular demand, Harry Potter and Hetalia! I'll admit, it's been a while since I've read any of the books, so I'll mostly go by the movies. I hope you don't mind! <strong>

**Look out for the next chapter! I always finish my stories. What do you think so far?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	2. Chapter 2

"We're here!" Canada said to the seemingly empty house. His voice echoed slightly as it bounced against the green wallpapered walls.

America shouldered in past his brother. "Come on, Iggy dude! Let's get this party started and over with!"

Canada shut the front door as America immediately made himself at home by sitting in England's favorite armchair and kicking his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. The northernmost Nation shook his head. "You _know_ that irritates him."

America shrugged and gave a mischievous smile. "You _know_ I don't care." He looked around. "I wonder where he's gone?" he wondered aloud.

"How much do you want to bet he's in his basement?" Canada asked, sitting himself down on the ornate floral sofa.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "How 'bout you go check? I ain't settin' foot down there on my life."

Whatever response Canada had never came, for he was interrupted by a loud _THUMP!_ and a string of muffled curses. The brothers glanced at each other. Canada raised an eyebrow. The blue eyed Nation shook his head violently, "Nope, I'm still not going down there."

Canada glared at his brother. "Oh, come on! You're telling me that you can win a staring contest with _Russia_ of all people, but you're afraid of going into England's _basement_?"

The conversation was interrupted again, but this time it was England yelling, "Both of you get down here! I have something to show you!"

Canada smiled triumphantly. He stood up, beckoned to his reluctant brother, and made his way down the carpeted hall and towards the stone staircase that would lead to down to the basement.

America grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed Canada.

"You're an ass," America stated with finality as they made their way down the steps.

"You're a chicken shit," Canada shot back. He opened the old wooden door to the basement, "But don't worry. I'll protect you,_ little brother_."

The two made found themselves in a large, darkened stone room. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with all sorts of odds and ends between old volumes. A cluttered worktable was pushed into a corner and a large glowing pentacle on the floor dominated the center of the room.

"Ah, good! You two are here," England smiled. He ushered the twins towards the ominous glowing circle in the of the floor. "Stand here, please."

America sent a withering glare at the offending object. "Are you sure about this?" He wasn't ready to trust such things.

Canada sighed and pulled America into the circle with him. "If he was going to hurt you, he would've tried it already."

England nodded as he flipped through the yellowed pages of a tattered spell book. "Right, now stop being a git." He flipped a few more pages, stopped and seemed to skim it's contents. He called out, "Illusio iuventutis tempore!" There was a flash of blue light, and the room fell dark.

"I feel...different," Canada said worriedly. He jumped, his voice sounded different too!

"Ha ha! You sound like a colony!" America made a choking sound, "Urk! So do I!"

England put on a candle. "Yes, I've de-aged you so that you look like fourteen year-olds." England smirked evilly and said, "Good thing I have some clothing that will fit you." He reached into a trunk against the wall and pulled out spare jeans and t-shirts.

America took his red shirt and studied the words printed on it in white. "'Keep Calm and Carry On'? Really dude?"

Canada's shirt was thankfully an unmarked green. He shed his old clothes, now much too big, and hurriedly dressed in the adolescent sized outfit. America scowled, but did the same. England clapped his hands together. "Alright! Come now lads, we are off to get school supplies!" He lead the way back into the living room, but instead of going to the front door, he turned toward the fireplace.

Canada cocked his head to the side. "What are we doing?"

England looked down at the de-aged Canada, secretly relishing the very fact that he wasn't shorter than them anymore. "I've already told you, we're getting school supplies!"

America frowned. "Through the fireplace?"

"You don't really expect us to take the _car_ to Diagon Alley now, do you?" England asked mysteriously, thoroughly enjoying the twins' confusion. He pulled out a small sack of powder, seemingly from nowhere.

"What's that?" Canada asked curiously.

"Floo powder. This will allow us to get there the quickest." He held the bag out to Canada first. "What I want you to do, is to take a fistful of that, step into the fireplace, and yell out 'Diagon Alley!' Then, throw the dust on the ground, and you will find yourself at the very place you've named. Stay where you are, and we will join you momentarily."

Canada took a bit of powder, and did exactly as England said. He disappeared in a sudden blast of green fire. America immediately reared on England. "What just happened? What did you do?!"

England held out the bag. "He's fine! Now stop being a stubborn git and do as I say!" He waited.

America grimaced and forced himself to take some powder. He stepped into the fireplace and stated, "For the record, I don't like _any_ of this. It just doesn't feel right." He followed Canada's example and disappeared in a similar fashion.

England sighed frustratingly and ran a hand through his hair. "Why is he so...gah!" He grabbed a fist of floo powder and said determinedly, "I'll change his mind yet! Diagon Alley!" He felt a rush of wind, and was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter done, huzzah! No worries, Harry Potter and friends shall be making an appearance soon!<strong>

** Thank you so much for the reviews and everything. It makes me so happy! Tell me what you think about this one?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I have the eagle?"

"No, you'll have to settle for the owl."

America huffed and folded his arms, evidently settling into the role of preteen. He eyed the owl in question., "Then I get to name it."

England put a hand to his face and sighed, "Then what _is_ it's name, might I ask?"

"Bruce!" America responded almost happily.

Canada stuck a finger through the cage, only to quickly withdraw it as the bird tried to bite it off. He scowled at it darkly. "Why?"

"Because it's feathers are black, so it reminds me of Batman," America declared as he took the cage from England and started to fawn over it.

The English nation shook his head. At least America wasn't complaining about being there. He turned to Canada. "Would you like an owl, cat, or toad?"

Canada waved the offer off. "I don't need any more pets. I have Kumajiro here." He struggled to hold up the polar bear, that was now much heavier since Canada de-aged.

"Who?" Kumajiro predictably asked.

"Ca-Matthew," Canada said, remembering that he had to go by his human name now.

"Oh?" The bear asked, now confused.

Matthew shook his head.

England paid for Alfred's owl and pulled both boys out of the shop. Arthur surveyed them and their heavy trunks. "Let's see...robes? Check. Potion supplies? Check...oh, don't open that book yet, Alfred!"

"Why not?" Alfred asked, jumping back from it.

"Just wait until class. Remember to stroke the spine," Arthur responded cryptically.

Alfred glared at the book suspiciously. "Alright then." He placed the owl cage on top of his trunk.

"It seems that the only thing left to get is your wands," the Englishman stated happily

"Ohhhh." Alfred waggled his fingers sarcastically. "Our _magical_ fairy wands!" He dropped his hands to his sides and followed his companions.

* * *

><p>On the way to the shop, Matthew asked Arthur, "So...what's so important about this Harry Potter child?"<p>

Arthur frowned as if remembering something unpleasant. "There was this dark wizard a while back. To make a long story short, he was a wannabe Hitler that killed many innocent people-most of them non-magical." He made a left down the crowded street, "The Potter family was actively working against him. So, this dark wizard found their hiding place, and killed them. But when he tried to end young Harry's life-he was in the crib, mind you, something...happened. I'm not going to explain what caused this-it take forever. But in the end, Harry Potter managed something that _no one else_ could. He defeated him. Since he's begun his studies in Hogwarts, there's been numerous threats towards his life from this dark wizard-who's been trying to return to power for a while now, and his followers-who've remained to this day. Which is why you are going to go there, as students, and watch Harry Potter."

"So...we're stalking a little boy?" Alfred asked. He was having a hard time believing all of this despite everything that's happened.

"It's not _stalking_, as you so put it!" Arthur snapped. He glanced around to see that no one listened too closely. "Just try and help him. Make sure he survives the school year." Arthur fell silent for a moment, then continued, "I've sent a letter to the headmaster Albus Dumbledore concerning your enrollment. As far as he knows, you are two human brothers named Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams. You were raised in North America separately and have recently been reunited and are transferring to Hogwarts to continue your magic studies."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "We don't _know_ any magic."

Arthur made another left. "I've informed him that you are both in desperate need of tutoring. In his response, he mentioned that there were plenty of student tutors to help you."

"Oh, okay then," Matthew said quietly. England must have made arrangements immediately after they said they would help.

They came upon a shop with a hand painted sign that read, 'OLLIVANDER'S' in large gold lettering, with a smaller sign directly above the door that read, 'Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.' Alfred looked up at the sign in awe. "Wow, I think he's older than _you_!"

Arthur cocked his head in wonder. "I suppose so." He'd never really thought about it, but Ollivander's Wands had always just been _there_. He never questioned it before. The Englishman shrugged and opened the door, causing a cheery bell to ring throughout the place. He ushered the twins inside and looked around at the endless rows of dusty wand boxes.

"Hello?" Matthew called.

Alfred rang the bell on the front desk a few times. All was silent for a moment longer, when Ollivander himself finally came out. His grey hair and old fashioned clothes were covered in dust, he peered at the trio through his glasses and smiled. "Ah! Arthur my old friend, I haven't seen you in decades! Larch wand with a Unicorn Core at 10 1/4 inches, very hard and unforgiving, wasn't it?" He offered a hand

Arthur smiled back and shook the man's hand vigorously. "Yes, it has been awhile hasn't it?" He pushed the two boys forward towards the desk. "These two are going to need wands."

The elderly man was already heading for the back of the store, "Oh? So these charges of yours are going to Hogwarts, I assume?" he sorted through boxes as he said this. Ollivander came back out with a slender and very dusty black box, "You," he gestured to Matthew. "Try this one."

Matthew came forward, he took the wand from Ollivander and waved it experimentally. Nothing happened, and Alfred raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who shrugged. The wandmaker quickly snatched it from Matthew's hand and mumbled, "Oh, no. That's not quite right."

He came out with another box, opened it, and held it out to the boy, who took it and waved it like he did the last one. There was a flash of bright amber light, and a faint sent of maple whispered through the room on a breeze. The atmosphere suddenly felt calmer. Matthew looked at the wand in his hand in wonder, and Ollivander smiled. "Cypress, with a Unicorn Core at 14 1/2 inches, very flexible."

He turned to Alfred. "Your turn now!" He went to the back area again, and came forth with another dusty old box. He opened it carefully and offered the wand to him. Alfred took the wand and regarded it skeptically in his hand for a moment. He waved it and the glass lampshade on the desk broke, leaving an exposed lightbulb. Alfred put the wand on the desk, rather uncomfortable with the whole thing. Ollivander frowned at the lamp. "Not again!" He took the wand from the desk and put it away, retrieving another box.

Alfred reached for the wand. However, the moment it touched Alfred's palm, it began to emit an earsplitting shrieking sound. Ollivander snatched the wand away, and studied it closely. "That...hasn't happened before." He scratched his messy hair quizzically, "It's like the wand was...in pain." He put the wand to the side and eyed Alfred critically. "I think you were to much for it, boy."

Alfred rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry." He glanced at Arthur, who looked as lost as he felt.

Ollivander took out a third box. "No, matter. This wand should do you well. If not, we will have to take drastic measures." Alfred took this wand, hesitated for a split second, and waved it. There was a whiff of gunsmoke and the room seemed to brighten. Red, white, and blue sparkles sprouted from the wand. Alfred looked at the wand, and for the first time since the trip began, he genuinely smiled. Arthur took the wand away before he could get any bright ideas. Alfred shoved his hands into his pockets and pouted slightly.

Ollivander nodded with satisfaction. "Interesting. That wand is Walnut, with a Dragon Core at 13 inches, rigid and unyielding."

Arthur thanked the man, paid for the wands, and they took their leave. He took the twins away from the wand shop, walked a ways, and stopped in front of a brick wall. He tapped the bricks in a pattern and landed them in a tavern. Arthur knelt down to the brothers' level. "Tomorrow we must go to platform 9 and 3/4. There you will catch the train and start your year at Hogwarts. Any questions or comments?"

"What will you be doing while we're at school?" Matthew asked. "You aren't de-aged, so I'm assuming that you won't be coming with us?"

"You're right, I won't be a student. But I'll be there," Arthur answered with a sly smile.

"You are enjoying this _way_ too much, Iggy," Alfred stated. "I have a really bad feeling about this."

* * *

><p><strong>I decided to do another chapter today. The <em>next<em> chapter will have the Golden Trio in it.**

**I got the wand measurements and qualities from a story called 'Sorting' by alexdemy. I reasoned out the wand effects like this:**

**-Canada, is very quiet by nature. So figured his would be more subtle, and reflect aspects of his country. Maple syrup is among the first things to come to mind when I think Canada so...yeah. He is also very calm, hence the calming atmosphere.**

**-America, is not nearly as calm. He tends to have a positive outlook on life, hence the bright atmosphere. The gunsmoke is because very few countries have weapons in their culture among civilians like we do. Fireworks, for Independence Day.**

**Thanks for the reviews and everything, it's really awesome to see them. Penny for your thoughts?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you _hear_ yourself right now?"

"Quite clearly," Arthur responded, not fully understanding Alfred's disapproval.

"You just told us to run through a brick wall," Matthew stated, pointing to the wall in question.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I did. Off you go now." He made a shooing motion with his hands.

Alfred looked at his brother, who shrugged. "You first, _hero,_" the Canadian said, adjusting their trunks on the trolly nonchalantly.

"Fine, be that way," Alfred huffed. He turned to the wall and glared at it defiantly. "Bring it _on_, wall!" He ran straight at it and disappeared into it.

"Please go after your brother before the fool hurts himself. I'm leaving it to you to keep him out of trouble," Arthur almost pleaded. He straightened his outfit. "I'll be along shortly. I just need to do a few more things." The Englishman nodded towards Matthew, and disappeared into the crowds of the train station.

Matthew regarded the brick wall, took a deep breath, and ran straight at it. He barely had time to think, _'Well that was stupid!'_ before he found himself on the ground of another train station entirely, with his brother holding a hand out to help him up. He grasped his brother's hand and let Alfred haul him up. Matthew surveyed the place.

They were in a train station with a red sign above their heads that read, 'Platform 9 3/4' in black and the words 'Hogwart's Express' right below it, in gold lettering. The people milling about clearly weren't muggles, with their odd headwear and robes. Parents stood on the platform, bidding farewell to their school bound kids as the children piled on to a train with a rather impressive looking steam engine.

Alfred looked around the platform, and then at the train saying, "Damn, that's old school." He picked up the heavy fallen trunks with ease, piled them on the trolly and pointed at the locomotive. "Let's go!" He pushed through the crowd, leaving his brother to trail along behind him.

* * *

><p>"I still think it was brilliant," Ron stated as the trio of friends entered a compartment. "Who do you think that is?"<p>

Hermione sat down. "Professor R.J. Lupin," she stated primly.

Ron's head spun towards her. "Do you know _everything_?"

"It's on his _bag_-"

"May we please sit here?" a polite voice interrupted.

A boy with mid-length blond hair and odd purple eyes framed by nondescript glasses stood in the doorway. "Could please we sit here? Everywhere else is full," he repeated quietly.

Another boy pushed past him. "Come on, bro! Speak up!" He looked a lot like the first, but his hair was shorter and he had bright blue eyes. Not to mention the fact that every aspect of him screamed _American_. He carried a trunk in each hand, apparently unaffected by their weight.

Harry, a bit lost for words at the sudden intrusion, moved to make room for them. The quiet one sat between him and Lupin, while the American put the trunks up and got between Hermione and Ron.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "but may we ask for your names?"

The shy one looked up at her. "Matthew Williams..."

The loud one grinned widely. "Alfred F. Jones, at your service, Miss." He looked around at everyone and asked, "What're your names?"

"Ronald Weasley, but Ron is fine."

"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you."

"Harry, Harry Potter."

All three waited for a reaction to such a well known name, but it wasn't what they were expecting. Alfred's expression didn't change. "Hi!"

Matthew just inclined his head politely. "Hello."

Harry let go of a tension he wasn't aware he had. "Erm...alright then." He had honestly grown used to his fame. He was confused, and a little relieved at the same time. He was glad that he had met people that wouldn't immediately judge him for his past deeds.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully as she studied the two closely. "Hmmm. You look like near twins. Are you brothers?"

Alfred nodded eagerly. "Yep! That's my bro, Mattie!"

Matthew gave a shy smile. "Please excuse his rambunctious behavior. I promise that it doesn't run in the family."

Alfred reached over and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You _wish_ it ran in the family."

Ron snickered, and Harry smiled a little. He could get to like these two.

Hermione worked to bring the conversation back on track. "Why do you have different last names?"

The brothers looked at each other. "Uh, yes! Why don't you tell them, Alfred?" Matthew asked as casually as possible.

Alfred scowled at his twin briefly, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "We were raised separately, by two different people in two different countries. We reunited in a long, sappy story that we'd rather not get into."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but pressed no further.

"Are you muggleborns?" Ron asked suddenly.

"...Yes," Matthew said. He cocked his head. "How'd you come to that conclusion?"

"You didn't know who he is," Ron said, pointing at Harry. "Not even a twitch from either of you!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"Oh? Are you famous?" Alfred asked Harry curiously.

Harry inwardly sighed, for he was enjoying the anonymity."Well..." He started.

"He's only the most famous wizard _ever_!" Ron praised, ignoring the looks of dread from his comrades. He continued, "He defeated the dark lord, multiple times!"

Neither brother looked incredibly impressed. "Dark Lord?" Matthew asked drolly.

"Wow, what a cliched title," Alfred muttered. He smirked. "And does this 'Dark Lord' have a name?"

"Voldemort," Harry answered, knowing full well that...

_"Don't say his name!_" Hermione hissed.

...someone would do that.

"Whatever," Alfred said dismissively, "Ya beat this Moldyshorts guy before, then you can do it again, kid."

Harry coughed to hide a snicker. Moldyshorts? He had to remember that one. Hermione leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, while Ron watched the whole scene in utter confusion. Professor Lupin's sleeping form didn't move.

The loud screech of the Hogwarts Express's brakes stopped all conversation.

"We're there already?" Matthew asked.

"No, it couldn't be!" Hermione responded.

The temperature rapidly dropped enough for frost to form on the glass. Silence reigned as students waited with bated breath. A bony, skeletal hand appeared to pull the latch open from the inside of the compartment. A terrible, hooded figure eerily floated towards the group.

Harry blacked out.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter is done, and the golden trio has made it's appearance. Stay tuned, and Malfoy will too at some point!<strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favs. It's gives me great pleasure to see people enjoying these stories.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	5. Chapter 5

Harry woke to see a piece of chocolate being held in front of his nose.

"Eat this, it'll help."

Harry accepted the sweet and looked around the compartment. Hermione and Ron looked alarmed, but unhurt. Alfred and Matthew though, were another matter. Matthew was sitting ramrod straight in his seat, with a tense, white knuckled grip on his knees. His purple eyes were open, but unseeing, even as Ron waved a hand in front of his face. Alfred had fallen out of his seat. He was twitching on the floor and muttering nonsensical things to himself.

"What was that?" Harry asked as he shakily gathered his thoughts.

"That was a Dementor. One of the Azkaban prison guards. They were searching the train for Sirius Black," Professor Lupin said in a businesslike manner as he rifled through his bag.

"Someone was screaming," Harry insisted, "A woman."

"No one was screaming, Harry," Hermione reassured, her face showing clear worry. "What about them?" She asked, glancing at the twins.

Lupin frowned briefly. "These two _should_ be fine. But if the Canadian starts foaming at the mouth, call me immediately." He pulled out another chocolate bar. "Split this between them when they wake up." He stood up and said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a little word with the driver." His tone hinted that he was _quite a bit more_ than irritated at this occurrence. The compartment door closed behind him.

A moment later, Matthew woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, _"That doesn't _help_, America!" _He covered his mouth and looked around, looking like death had warmed over.

Ron wordlessly handed him a piece of chocolate, that Matthew munched on gratefully as he watched his brother convulse on the floor. "Will he be alright?" the boy asked.

"That's what Lupin said," Hermione responded. "What was that about the America and helping?"

"Oh...um...nothing. That's long past now," Matthew responded quietly.

_"I can't see!"_ Alfred gasped. He sat up and looked around wildly. His eyes rested on his twin. "C-" He remembered where he was and forced himself to calm down, "Mattie, are...are you alright?" He accepted the other half of the chocolate bar from Ron and sat himself back in his seat.

"Better than you are," Matthew responded solemnly.

Alfred looked down, "Sorry, that was...nothing. It was a long time ago."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Harry asked suddenly.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Four. I'm not blind you know."

"Just making sure," Harry said, looking out the window at the stormy weather.

* * *

><p>"Where did they go? Aren't they third years?" Ron asked on the way to the Great Hall.<p>

"I believe they're going with the first years to get sorted," Hermione answered.

"I can bet on where Alfred will be," Ron grinned.

Harry said nothing as they seated themselves the Gryffindor table, and waited for sorting to begin. Like every year, the sorting hat was seated upon the stool and it sung it's song. First years' expressions varied between excited, smug, and utterly terrified. Fred and George Weasley placed bets on who would be where.

"That one there'll be Hufflepuff for sure," George said, pointing at Matthew.

"He's a bit old for a first year, isn't he?" Fred laughed.

"And he's a matched set!" George responded, indicating Alfred.

_"Be quiet!"_ Percy Weasley shushed.

"When I call your name, please step up to be sorted," Professor Mcgonagall announced as she unrolled a list of names. She called the names in alphabetical order, as usual. Kids came up one by one and got sorted.

Oddly enough though, Alfred and Matthew were left for last. Harry wondered why.

"Awful lot of Slytherins this year..." Neville Longbottom shuddered.

The headmaster himself, Albus Dumbledore, came up to the podium. His blue eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles, as usual. The hall fell completely silent at his signal.

"I'd like to make a few announcements," He stated, "We have two exchange students here from North America entering the third year, who need to be sorted." The hall broke out into mutters at this. Exchange program? What exchange program? Dumbleodre bade them silent again. He looked directly at Alfred. "If you please, Mr. Jones?"

* * *

><p>"Do I <em>have<em> to?" Alfred whined to his brother. He didn't like the idea of a clothing accessory looking in his head. The ghosts were bad enough!

Matthew said nothing, but squeezed his arm reassuringly. Thus comforted, Alfred approached the sorting hat cautiously. He nodded to the headmaster and Mcgonagall respectfully and slide onto the stool.

_"Well aren't you an interesting one aren't you, America?"_ the sorting hat mused.

_"This...feels unnatural,"_ Alfred thought, unable to sensor his own thoughts.

The hat chuckled ruefully, _"You're not only referring to myself, are you?"_

_"No, I suppose not,"_ Alfred responded.

_"This will be the best place for you to come to terms with magic,"_ the old hat said. _"You have much potential, but you will only succeed if you accept, boy. Hmmm...Slytherin would suit you well, but I feel that you don't _want_ to be that kind of person. You're loyal to your allies, and you've proved to be more clever than anyone would've guessed. Although there's something else here...I have made my decision."_

"Gryffindor!" The hat decided out loud.

Alfred grinned at the cheers from his peers, and ran to seat himself next to Harry.

"Matthew Williams?" Mcgonagall called.

Matthew walked up to the stool, crossing his fingers.

_"Hello, Canada."_

_"Eh...hello?"_ Matthew thought wittily.

The hat hummed to itself. _"Hmmm. Where will I put you? You would make a good Hufflepuff..."_

_"I hear a 'but',"_ Matthew pressed.

_"But, you have more than enough bravery, and you have much to do,"_ the hat said with finality.

_"What?-"_

"Gryffindor!"

Matthew sighed in relief and hopped off the stool. He joined his brother at the table, who cheered the loudest of them all.

* * *

><p><strong>'Nother chapter done, and I'm writing the next one as you read this, so no fear.<strong>

**Thanks for all the attention this has gotten so far, it's really awesome of you guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	6. Chapter 6

Dumbledore called for quiet once more, "Furthermore, I would like to welcome two new teachers to Hogwarts. Professor Remus Lupin, will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, this year."

There was applause as Professor Lupin stood up briefly to take a bow.

"Meanwhile," Dumbledore continued, "Professor Binns has informed me that he will be taking a long needed vacation. So, Professor Kirkland, will be taking over as your History of Magic teacher. Good luck to both!"

A young looking man in emerald robes with messy blond hair and green eyes stood up and also bowed, spurring more applause, but not everyone praised the new teacher.

"Oh, _god_," Alfred practically sobbed as his head hit the table.

"What is it?" Harry asked, surprised at his reaction.

Matthew snickered. "That's _just_ like him. How could I expect anything less?"

"What's so funny?" Ron demanded, hating being left out of the loop.

Alfred began to repeatedly bang his head on the table, making the silverware rattle. "Crap." _BANG!_ "Crap." _BANG!_ "Crap." _BANG!_ "Crap..."

"Professor Kirkland raised him like a son," Matthew supplied. "They had a...falling out."

Alfred stopped abusing his forehead and glared pitifully up at the teacher's table."He is _so_ going to fail me, just to spite me. I know it." he lamented dramatically.

"A teacher should never put his private life in the way of his duty!" Hermione said, horrified at the very idea.

"Potter!" a voice hissed. "_Psst!_ Potter!"

Him and Ron turned around to face the table behind them. Malfoy was there, sitting between his goons and smirking.

"Is it true you fainted?" Malfoy sneered as Crabbe mocked him. "I mean you _actually_ fainted?"

"Shut up _Malfoy_," Ron snarled.

"Just forget him," Hermione advised as they turned their backs on him and listened to the headmaster.

"...he has decided to retire, in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I am delighted to announce, his position shall be taken over by none other than our very own, Rubeus Hagrid."

The half giant stood up bashfully, making the teacher's table move and tipping their thankfully empty goblets over. Cheers came from all around for the groundskeeper turned teacher.

"On to more serious matters." Dumbledore's easy smile became a frown. "At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will be playing host for the Dementors of Azkaban..."

The hall broke out into mutters, and Harry grimaced. Alfred and Matthew both became very interested in their empty plates.

The headmaster droned on. "...until such a time, that Sirius Black is captured. The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and although I have been assured that their presence would not interfere with our day to day activities, a word of warning." He gave the entire student body an intense look. "Dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between their _target_, and the _one who gets in their way_. Therefore, I must tell each and every one of you, to not give them a reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving."

He raised a finger. "But remember, that happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times. If one simply remembers, to turn on the light." He waved his hand, and a nearby candle flickered to life. He clapped his hands, and a great feast spread before them, "Now let us eat!"

Ron started to put things on his plate the moment they came into existence. He tucked in ravenously, and then looked at Alfred and Matthew, who had made no move to eat.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

Alfred looked at the mashed potatoes skeptically. "Yeah, but..."

"But what?" Hermione pressed.

Matthew poked at the turkey experimentally. "It looks fine to me, Al."

"Are you sure?" Alfred inquired. "I usually wouldn't eat anything that appeared out of midair." He grimaced, "Not to mention that it's _English_ food."

"It's fine, I promise." Harry reassured them, "The house elves are great cooks."

"What the hell is a house elf?" Alfred asked.

"You don't have them in America?" Hermione asked.

Alfred frowned. "Last I checked...no."

Matthew ate a biscuit, regarded the pastry, and shrugged. He tapped his twin's shoulder. "It's fine, now eat. Besides, you'll have to get used to things magically appearing while you're here."

"I know," Alfred muttered, so that no one would hear. "That's what I'm worried about." But, Matthew seemed to be enjoying himself, and Alfred didn't want to take that away from him. He piled food on his plate, and began to eat.

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><p><strong>See? Another chapter. On the same day. Huzzah! Oh, and I got Dumbledore's speech from the movie. I needed him to say <em>something<em>, and I can't improve upon perfection.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and such, I'm so grateful that there are those that wish to hear this story.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	7. Chapter 7

"Is that a polar bear?" Neville asked nervously as he observed the mammal presiding on Matthew's bed.

"Oh, that's Kumajiro. Don't worry, he doesn't bite," the Canadian reassured as he began to idly pet the bear.

"Total lie. It's favorite pass time is to try and bite my fingers off," Alfred said casually. He plopped onto the bed with his trunk, and surveyed the cozy dorm room's red and gold decor. "Alright," he admitted, "This is pretty cool."

"You know he wouldn't bite you if you didn't try to take his food," Matthew reminded.

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred said dismissively. He began to rummage through his trunk, and pulled out an old bomber jacket.

"Why do you have that?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm going to put this over the stupid pajamas I'm being forced wear for the next several months," Alfred responded as he draped it over his bedstead.

Ron gave a short bark of laughter at Alfred's opinion of the school robes. He searched his trunk, looking for some underwear he was hoping he hadn't forgotten. He pulled some books and parchment out of his trunk, and paused when his hand found a bag of magic candies he had forgotten about. He grinned deviously. "Hey, Seamus?"

* * *

><p>Arthur gave a contented smile as he made his way to his new quarters. "Welcome back, Sir Kirkland," a painting called as he passed. Arthur smiled and waved back at it. This old castle really hasn't changed much. He was happy to see that even now magic hasn't been changed by new technologies or war. It was refreshing to see a place so untouched by time. His happy musings were interrupted when he collided with someone going in the opposite direction. He only staggered, but the other figure fell to the ground and landed on flat on his bottom.<p>

"Watch it, you imbecile!" The man snarled.

Arthur was taken aback by the insult, but he could understand such a reaction, given the circumstance. He offered a hand. "My apologies, I was lost in my thoughts."

The disgruntled one rejected his hand and got up on his own, which allowed for further study. He was a man of imposing figure, a few inches taller than Alfred would be if he wasn't de-aged. Mid-length greasy black hair grew from his head and his robes were a severe black. He sneered coldly. "Professor...Kirkland, I presume?"

Arthur bristled. He would not be disrespected by his own citizens! He narrowed his eyes. "Nice to meet you too. Who, might I ask, do I have the..." he sniffed scornfully. "..._pleasure_ of addressing?"

The man drew himself up arrogantly. "I, am Professor Snape. Head of Slytherin House."

"Ah, yes," Arthur nodded, thoroughly unimpressed. "I've heard some not-so-nice things about you, Severus."

Snape somehow made it possible to look even _more_ coldly pompous. "A word of advice for an unproven professor such as yourself." He leaned over Kirkland. "Don't trust all the rumors you hear, and stay out of my way."

Arthur snorted and pushed past Snape. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "It's good to see my old house being represented _so_ well." He swiftly made his way down the hall, leaving the Slytherin professor behind.

He soon found himself in his new living quarters. The colors were predominantly green and silver, for his house, which was odd since he hadn't told anybody what it was until that greasy git, Snape. Arthur walked across the room and looked into the wardrobe, to see his clothing unpacked already. Interesting indeed.

"Now if only I could have a lesson plan magically appear before me," Arthur sighed to himself and made his way to the adjoining office. He pulled out some parchment, textbooks and a quill and got to work.

* * *

><p>Snape glared at the retreating form of Arthur Kirkland. How dare he act in such a manner to his senior staff member! How that fool ever got into Slytherin carrying on like that, he'd never know. A true snake would be licking his boots to get in his good favor!<p>

But...there was something different about Kirkland, much more than meets the eye. This new professor comes out of _no_where with a letter of recommendation, flawless teaching credentials and two students in tow? Something was wrong, for sure. Severus didn't know what, but he was determined to find out! He stalked off in the opposite direction, going towards his quarters for the night.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is done, and Snape has made his grand debut as a certified d*ck. Another chapter is on the way! <strong>

**Thanks for the support I've gotten with this story, it truly warms my heart. **

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	8. Chapter 8

"What's our first class, Mattie?" Alfred asked as they made their way towards the North Tower.

"Don't you have your schedule?" Harry asked.

"Nah, I left that thing in the dorm. Y'all should be happy I even remembered my book!" Alfred stated almost happily.

Matthew sighed. "Good thing you have all the same classes as me, we've got Divinations first."

* * *

><p>"In this room," Professor Trelawney said dramatically, "you shall learn the noble art of divination!"<p>

Alfred snorted quietly and Matthew punched him lightly on the arm.

"In this room," she continued, rising from her chair. "you shall discover if you have the _Sight-_" she bumped her knee on the low table in front of her, much to the amusement of the class. She straightened, "I am Professor Trelawney, and together we shall cast ourselves into the future!"

She faced the congregation. "This term we shall be focusing on the art of reading tea leaves. So if you will please take the cup of the person sitting _opposite_ you?"

Harry took Ron's teacup and Ron did the same for Harry as she went on. The moment they turned their attention back to their surroundings, they heard Hermione say, "What a load of rubbish!"

"See? I'm not the only one," Alfred stated as he and his brother exchanged teacups.

"Where did you come from?" Ron demanded.

"Me?" Hermione asked innocently. "I've been here all this time!" She placed her book on the table and adjusted her robes.

Trelawney spun towards Neville and pointed. "You boy! Is your grandmother quite well?"

The boy gave a puzzled look. "I-I think so."

"Don't be so sure of that! Give me the cup." The professor swiped the cup from his partner and glanced inside of it. A look of sympathy passed over her face. "Hm...pity." She placed it back on the table and Neville looked at it worriedly.

"What's that gypsy on?" Alfred asked quietly.

Matthew shushed him. "Shut up, and pay attention!"

Unfortunately, the professor heard this. She stepped to the twins' table to scold them, but stopped, cocking her head to the side. "Odd...give me the cup." She snatched Matthew's teacup from Alfred. "What's this? I see...pain, joy, anger, friendship, revenge...what turmoil!" She gave the cup back to Alfred and took the cup from Matthew. She looked into it, frowned, and put it on the table. She turned away, muttering,"What _are_ you?"

Hermione scoffed. "See? Even _she_ can't read them. It's complete nonsense!"

Trelawney turned towards the girl's voice and gasped as her eyes rested on Ron, "Your aura is pulsing dear. Are you in the beyond? I think you are!"

"Eh, sure!" Ron said, nodding nervously.

"Look at the cup, tell me what you see," Trelawney insisted

Ron opened his textbook and flipped a few pages. "Well, he's got kind of a monkey cross and that's trials and suffering...and down there could be the sun, and that's happiness." He turned to Harry "So...your going to suffer, but your going to be...happy...about it." He shrugged and frowned at the cup skeptically while Hermione smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Give me the cup..." she said as she reached for it. She grasped it, and quickly dropped it with a fearful exclamation. She backed away, taking deep breaths. When she finally calmed down, she looked at Harry with great sorrow. "My dear...you have...the G_rim_."

"What's the Grim?" Alfred asked out loud.

Matthew frowned and flipped through his book. He found a passage and read, "The Grim, it takes the form of a giant spectral dog. It is among the darkest omens of our world." Matthew gulped as he read the last part. "It's an omen of death."

Harry looked into the unassuming teacup, remembering the black dog he had seen on Privet Drive...

* * *

><p>Transfigurations was the next class. As usual, Professor Mcgonogall started the year on a high note, lots and lots of notes. Matthew caught on rather quickly, but Alfred was another matter. He just couldn't get the mouse to turn into a snuff box.<p>

"Waving your wand like that isn't going to make that mouse do anything, Jones," the professor chided tiredly. She sighed and said, "I'm assigning you to tutoring with Miss Granger until you can keep up with the rest of the class."

Alfred pouted and Ron patted his shoulder comfortingly.

After class, Harry asked Mcgonogall privately about Professor's Trelawney's worrying prediction. Mcgonogall shook her head exasperatedly. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school, and none of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class."

Thus reassured, Harry joined his friends on the way to the lesson he was looking forward to most. Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

* * *

><p>"You don't think that Grim thing has anything to do with Sirius Black, do you?" Ron asked as the five students made their way towards Hagrid's cottage.<p>

The bell tolled ominously in the distance and Hermione tossed her head back. "Oh, _please_. If you ask me, Divination is a very questionable discipline."

"Yeah, and she's a total nut case," Alfred agreed, adjusting the green book in his hands carefully.

Matthew fiddled with his robes. "It certainly _was_ entertaining though..."

Alfred nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it was a fun way to start out the year."

"Fun?" Hermione scoffed. "If you want fun, go to Ancient Runes class. Now _that_ was interesting."

"How many classes are you _taking_ this year?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Ron paused mid-step. "Wait...how can you be in Ancient Runes class? It was at the same time as Divinations! You'd have to be in two classes at once!"

"Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione chided as she passed him on the path. "How can anyone be in two places at once?"

* * *

><p>"Alright everyone, gather 'round!" Hagrid the half giant said. "I've got a real treat for you today; a great lesson!" He nodded in the vague direction of the forested area behind him. "Follow me!"<p>

He lead the class through a wooded area, and into a clearing with some stable type structures off to the side. "Alright you lot, less chattering." Hagrid pointed towards a large tree. "Form a group over there 'n open your books to page 49!"

"And how exactly _do_ we do that?" Draco Malfoy demanded, holding his book by the belt and away from him.

"Just stroke the spine, of course." Hagrid responded as if it were obvious. He turned and stomped off towards the stables.

"Stroke the spine. To appease the book. So _that's_ what he meant." Alfred said to himself, doing as instructed. He looked up to see that Malfoy kid and his cronies were complaining about the school.

"Oh, yes. Very witty! _God_, this place has gone to the dogs." Malfoy scowled, "Wait until my father hears about Dumbledore letting this _oaf_ teach classes."

Harry stepped towards Malfoy, angry that he would say such things about a Hagrid. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"Ooooh." Malfoy handed a crony his bag, sauntered up to Harry, and looked over the Gryffindor's shoulder. A look of fear came over his face, he jumped back. "Dementors, Dementors!"

Most of the Gryffindors glanced back fearfully, causing raucous laughter from the Slytherins.

Alfred stepped forward. "Leave them alone!"

Malfoy scowled at the American. "How dare you! I'll have you expelled before you can say, 'I'm sorry!'"

Alfred was about ready to lay into the arrogant boy, but he felt the restraining hand of his brother who shook his head slightly. "No, Al. Not here, not now." Matthew whispered.

Alfred sent a murderous glare at the Slytherins. "Later, then," he promised darkly.

Hagrid cleared his throat, getting the class's attention. He imitated a trumpet flourish, "Da, da-da-da!" He gestured to the thing behind him.

It was a majestic creature that looked to be an odd cross between a horse and an eagle. It's head and neck was covered in a soft feathery down, which somehow became fur towards the rear end. It made a birdlike noise and pawed the ground.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid fawned as he tossed a raw fish at it, that it caught and swallowed whole. The half giant smiled. "Say hello to Buckbeak!"

"What _is_ that?" Ron asked, in awe.

"That, Ron, is a Hippogriff," Hagrid answered. "The first thing you'll want to know about Hippogriffs, is that they're very _proud_ creatures, and _very_ easily offended." He settled a firm gaze upon the class. "You do _not_ want to insult a Hippogriff. It may just be the last thing you ever do," he emphasized. He then smiled genially and rubbed his hand together. "Now, who wants to come and say hello?..."

The entire class backed away, except for Harry, who didn't realize they were supposed to back away.

"Well done Harry, well done!" Hagrid exclaimed.

Matthew reached forward from the group and spurred Harry forward. The Gryffindor student stepped towards the creature a few steps.

"You have to let _him_, make the first move," Hagrid instructed. "Be polite, take a step back, bow, and wait to see if he bows back. If he does, you can go and touch him. If not...well, we'll get to that later. Now make your bow."

Harry bowed slowly, as low as he could. Buckbeak squawked and flapped his wings a couple times.

"Back off, Harry!" Hagrid urged, "Back off!"

Harry stepped back, accidently snapping a twig. He froze, waiting, wondering if snapping a twig would somehow offend the creature. After a moment, Buckbeak finally closed his wings, and gracefully bowed back.

"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid praised, as he threw another fish to Buckbeak. "You can go and pat him now. Nice and slow."

Harry walked forward carefully with an upraised hand, being sure to not agitate it. The Hippogriff stepped forward and pushed his beak gently against Harry's outstretched hand.

"Good job!" Hagrid praised relievedly. He stepped forward eagerly. "I think he'll let you ride him now."

"What?" Harry asked, squirming as Hagrid bodily picked the boy up and sat him on Buckbeak's back. "Don't pull out his feathers, he won't like you for that!" With that tidbit of advice, he slapped the creature's hindquarters. Buckbeak reared and surged forward, taking off.

The class broke out into murmurs.

"He'll come back, right?" one student asked worriedly.

"What if he falls off?" another speculated.

"Can I try?" a third inquired excitedly.

Hagrid grinned and whistled, bidding the Hippogriff to come back. He helped Harry off of it, whispering, "How am I doing me first day?"

"Brilliant, Professor!" Harry responded breathlessly.

"Oh, _please_!" Malfoy said arrogantly. He made his way towards Buckbeak, "Come here you stupid bird!"

Buckbeak squawked loudly and reared as Malfoy approached. The Slytherin boy suddenly fell to the ground, clutching his arm. One of the Hippogriff's sharp talons had left a bleeding gash in his arm.

"It's killed me!" he cried.

Hagrid ran towards the bird with the intent of trying to calm it. Alfred dashed forward without thinking, and got in front of it before Hagrid. Buckbeak seemed to notice Alfred waving his arms, and abruptly backed off. Alfred stepped towards it, and the Hippogriff took a step back and bowed. Everyone stared. Hagrid peered at the boy from under bushy brows. "What?..."

"Hagrid!" Hermione called. "Malfoy needs to go to the hospital wing!"

"Oh, right!" the half giant agreed, Alfred quickly forgotten. He scooped the moaning Slytherin up off the ground. "Erm...class dismissed!" He rushed off.

Ron didn't particularly care for Malfoy, so he didn't really pay any mind to the Slytherin's plight. He watched as Matthew scolded Alfred for his dangerous stunt. Yet again, the brothers did something out of the ordinary, even by wizarding standards. The boy struggled to put the pieces together. Something was off about those two, but he couldn't see what! He would find out, for sure. Perhaps he should talk to Hermione about this.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was longer, I'm so proud of myself! :D Another chapter is on the way.<strong>

**Thanks for the support the story has gotten! It makes me really happy. **

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	9. Chapter 9

"Ron!"

Ron groaned and turned over in his bed, covering his head with the blanket.

"_Ron!_"

"Later," Ron muttered.

"But I _need_ your help," the voice whined.

"Go away, Alfred," Ron responded groggily.

Harry shifted, woken up by the small exchange. "Just help him," he said in annoyance.

Ron sighed mournfully. "Fine, give me a second." He dragged himself out of his comfortable bed, observed his friend who had fallen asleep again, and jabbed him with his finger.

"Hey!" Harry objected as he fell out of his bed with a _THUMP!_.

"You're coming too," Ron stated vindictively.

"You are completely impossible," Harry grumbled as he untangled himself from his blankets and went into his trunk.

Seamus muttered in his sleep, "Wot you talkin' 'bout?" and turned over.

A wide eyed Alfred silently bade them hurry as Ron pulled a light robe over himself and Harry withdrew his father's invisibility cloak.

"What are we doing, exactly?" Harry whispered.

"Mattie's gone, so I think he's in kitchen," Alfred responded quietly.

"Do you really need us for that?" Ron asked in a suitably irritable fashion.

"I'll need help getting him out of it. He gets a little...intense on days like this." Alfred grimaced as if remembering something unpleasant. "Besides, I don't know where the kitchen is."

Harry gestured for the two to join him under the cloak. They disappeared and exited the dorm room, making their way out of the common room. Harry pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos." The stairs lighted up and they quickly made their way towards the kitchens.

"Does he do this often?" asked Ron quietly as they approached the secret entrance to the kitchens.

"Usually, no. But the longer he's away from home, the more likely he is to do it," Alfred answered. "I just hope he's not violent this time."

_"Violent?" _Harry asked disbelievingly. Matthew never struck him as the violent type.

"Great," Ron muttered, opening entrance and leading the trio into the kitchens.

It truly was a magnificent sight. Stoves lined the wall and sinks covered another. Ingredients for the next meal sat in waiting on expansive counters and a huge collection of pots and pans sat on a large shelf. But the small army of house elves that should be busy at work were instead hiding in the pantry and under the tables, shaking fearfully. Assorted items laid scattered about the floor, like someone had thrashed the place completely.

Harry flung the cloak off and kneeled under the table. "What are you doing?"

An older house elf scowled. "He won't let us cook!"

"He's scary!" another disgruntled house elf added pointing towards a corner of the kitchen partially hidden by shelves.

"Oh, bugger," Ron cursed.

"Let's get this over with," Alfred said, cautiously picking his way around the mess.

"Matthew?" Harry asked hesitatingly, following Alfred.

They turned the corner and found an odd scene. The Canadian boy, in a robe and slippers, was at an active stove, mumbling to himself in a mixture of French and English as he cooked. His polar bear sat on the counter nearby, cheerfully munching on a tower of pancakes that had reached a height unrivaled by even the most ambitious of chefs.

Ron accidentally kicked a ladle that sat on the floor. Matthew's head whipped towards the sound, purple eyes looking a crazed as he surveyed the trio silently.

"Mattie? Put down the spatula," Alfred said carefully.

"Porquoi?" his brother asked, cocking his head to the side.

"You need to go to bed," Harry supplied.

Ron was a bit nervous at Matthew's crooked smile. "You're scaring the house elves."

Matthew expertly flipped some pancakes onto the constantly fluctuating stack. "Why don't they have Canadian maple syrup here?"

"What happened to your emergency supply?" Alfred asked, concern evident on his face.

"I used it!" the Canadian cackled hysterically. "And it was _so good_!" He quieted drastically and muttered, "But it was gone _so fast_."

"Come on, we have to go," Alfred said, approaching his twin carefully.

Matthew jumped back, holding the spatula like a sword. "No! You can't take this...this _moment_ away from me!" He picked up a knife from the counter with his other hand, and threw it at Ron.

Harry was glad he had his wand out. "Deflecto!" The knife skittered away, it's momentum gone.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

Alfred pounced on his brother. "Give me the spatula!"

Matthew did an odd wrestling move, and Alfred ended up pinned under him. "I said no! You can't control me, America! Do you know how long it's been?! Since I've been home?!" He punctuated this statement by trying to stab his brother with the kitchen utensil in his hand. It _'clinked'_ sharply against the tiled floor as Alfred swerved his head out of the way.

Alfred somehow kicked Matthew off of him, and staggered off the ground. "Snap out of it!"

Harry snuck up behind Matthew, and pinned his arms behind him. Ron drew his wand. "Stupefy!" Matthew abruptly fell slack, unconscious.

Alfred looked around at the mess regretfully, and his eyes rested on the polar bear still sitting on the table. "Kuma, what triggered that?" he asked.

The bear shrugged. "I was hungry, he made me pancakes. Then he didn't stop."

Ron leaned on the wall tiredly. "And the thing talks. I'm not even going to ask."

Harry shook his head. "We need to get back to the Common Room, and I can't carry him. The four of us won't all fit under the invisibility cloak either."

"I'll do it. See ya'll in the dorm," Alfred said, lifting his twin like he weighed nothing, and exiting the kitchen.

The house elves started to come out of hiding. Most picked up brooms and mops to clean up the mess, others began to cook as if nothing happened.

"Harry," Ron said. "somethings off about those two."

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked drily.

Ron punched him lightly on the arm. "Seriously! The Dementors, Professor Trelawney, the hippogriff, Matthew's freak out, _the talking polar bear_. Where do you even _get_ a polar bear?"

Harry frowned. "I haven't really thought about it...but I suppose you have a point. I've noticed some things myself."

"Like what?" Ron inquired.

"Matthew has said 'America' like it was a person twice now. Then Alfred picks his brother up like he was just a loaf of bread!"

"I think we need to ask Hermione about this," Ron said.

Harry picked up his invisibility cloak. "Yes, but later. I want to gather some more evidence."

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is done! Yay! This was a request from Dark Meow Meow Kitten of Doom I liked the idea, so I used it. Which really says something because I usually wouldn't do a request. Next chapter is coming soon.<strong>

**Thanks for the reviews and all that jazz, it's great to see people taking the time to read this and tell me what they thought.**

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	10. Chapter 10

"What happened?" Matthew asked groggily the next morning, seeing his friends give him odd looks.

"You went completely mad...over _pancakes_ of all things," Harry responded, still hardly able to believe it. "You don't remember that?"

Matthew rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh...sorry."

"You also finished off your emergency supply of maple syrup, so watch yourself," Alfred added as he withdrew his school robes and bomber jacket.

"You mean this could happen _again_?!" Ron asked, horrified at the very thought.

Matthew nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Yeah, its a condition that runs in the family. Alfred isn't as bad as me, though." He got up and casually made his bed.

"You didn't mention that little tidbit," the redhead growled at the American as he pulled his socks on.

"Must've slipped my mind," Alfred laughed nervously.

"What are you four talking about?" Neville asked.

"An interesting tale that is better left to be told over butterbeer," Ron responded cryptically.

"What's going on today?" Matthew asked, eager to change the subject.

"Unfortunately, we've got Potions with the Slytherins today. Then we have History of Magic and Defense against the Dark Arts," Harry supplied.

Seamus hit his head on one of his bedposts. "Oh, come on! Potions is bad enough as it is. You'd think they'd change the damn schedule after all this time!"

"What's so bad about Potions?" Alfred asked curiously.

"Professor Snape, is a greasy prick who has a bone to pick with Gryffindor House. Only Slytherins like him. But that's only because he lets them get away with everything," Harry answered sourly, gathering his supplies for the day.

"Is he really that bad?" Matthew inquired.

"You don't know the half of it," Neville shuddered.

* * *

><p>Malfoy, who'd been out of class for the last few days, made it back to Potions halfway through class. His right arm was covered in bandages and in a sling. He cruised in, acting like a survivor of some terrible ordeal.<p>

"Does it hurt terribly Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked as the class did partner work.

Malfoy put on a brave grimace, "Yeah, but I consider myself lucky. Another minute or two and I could've lost my arm!"

"Settle down," Snape said offhandedly.

Harry scowled into his cauldron. Harry would've immediately gotten detention if he came in late. The blatant favoritism was appalling! But on the bright side, Matthew was working with him today, and the Canadian turned out to be a natural in potion making. Snape was having a hard time faulting the Shrinking Solution they were working on.

Hermione, could be heard at a nearby table. She smacked Alfred's hand. "No, Alfred. You're supposed to _shred_ them, not chop them. Like this."

"What's the difference, anyway?" Alfred pouted as he relinquished the silver knife to his partner.

Malfoy set up his cauldron right near Ron, who was working with Neville, so that they set their ingredients up at the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy said. "I'll need help cutting these daisy roots, you see my arm-"

Snape didn't even look up. "Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots."

"There's nothing wrong with your arm!" Ron hissed as his face turned bright red.

"But I need _help_." Malfoy smirked and gestured to his daisy roots with his sling. "You heard the Professor; cut these roots."

Ron seized his knife and began to chop Malfoy's roots roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"He's mutilating my roots, Professor," Malfoy complained.

Snape rose from his chair and approached the table. He gave Ron an unpleasant smile. "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But sir-!"

"Now." Snape commanded in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own perfectly cut roots across the table towards Malfoy and took up his knife again. He began to try and repair the damage to the roots he now had to use.

"I'll need this shrivelfig skinned too, sir," Malfoy grinned maliciously.

"Potter, skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Snape ordered, giving Harry an evil look.

Harry frowned and took Malfoys shrivelfig. He skinned it as fast as he could and slammed it back in front of Malfoy without saying a word. Malfoy was almost laughing now.

"Seen your pal Hagrid as of late? I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer, so you might want to visit him while you can," Malfoy mocked, "Father's not happy about my injury, so he's complained to the school governors and the Ministry of Magic. He has a lot of influence you know." Malfoy sighed as he said, "And a lasting injury like this, I might never be the same again."

Alfred accidently stuck his knife into the table as he listened to the Slytherin boy speak. "I'm gonna kill me a limey if you don't shut up _right now,_" he growled darkly.

"Anytime, yankee," Malfoy challenged.

Alfred smiled to himself thinly, and his brother worried sent a worried glance in his direction. He recognized that look.

"You want Hagrid fired," Harry realized. "That's why you're laying it on so thick."

Malfoy lowered his voice to a whisper, "Well, that's one reason. Weasley, slice my caterpillars."

Neville, without his partner being able to help, was having a problem. Rather than a bright acid green, his cauldron contained a sickly orange colored concoction. Potions has never been his best subject, being afraid of the teacher and a generally clumsy fellow.

"What did I tell you," Snape said, "about the quantity of tat hearts? About the amount of leech juice you were supposed to use? Do you learn nothing?" The teacher bodily turned away from the unfortunate Griffindor. "We are going to feed three drops of this to your toad at the end of class. Maybe that will teach you to _read the directions_."

"Help me, please!" Neville pleaded with Hermione, who gave him a pitying look and started to set his potion right.

Seamus leaned over to borrow Harry's brass scales. "Did you hear that Sirius Black's been sighted?"

"Where?" Harry asked quickly

"By who?" Ron asked at the same time.

"Not far from here," Seamus responded excitedly. "A muggle saw him, but of course she didn't really understand. Muggles think he's just some ordinary criminal. So she called the authorities, but he was gone by the time the Ministry of Magic got there."

Malfoy was listening closely, eyes shining malevolently. "Thinking of trying to catch him single-handedly, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said offhandedly.

Malfoy gave a mean smile. "I'd have done something before now, if it was me. I'd be out looking for him, rather than staying in school like a good boy. Given what he's done to you."

"What'd Black do to him, Malfoy?" Ron demanded roughly.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Don't you know, Potter?" he breathed.

Harry gave a puzzled look. "Know what?"

"Maybe you don't want to risk your neck, so you're leaving it to the Dementors," Malfoy sneered. "But if it was me, I'd want _revenge_. I'd hunt him down myself."

Snape interrupted the exchange. "You should have finished adding the ingredients now," he announced. "This potion needs to stew before it's drunk, so clear your workstations while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottoms..."

A few Slytherins laughed openly as Neville despaired. Hermione gave last minute instructions as he feverishly stirred his potion. Harry and Ron packed their unused ingredients while Matthew whispered urgently to his seething brother at the sinks. Harry caught snippets of the conversation.

"...don't..."

"...stop me..."

Harry shook his head and began to wash his hands. "What'd Malfoy mean? Black hasn't done anything to me, yet."

"Malfoy's making it up," Ron said resolutely. "He's trying to make you do something stupid..."

The end of the lesson approached, and Snape strode over to a cowering Neville.

"Gather around," Snape said, "and watch. If Longbottom has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, his toad will become a tadpole. If not, which is much more likely, his toad will most probably be poisoned."

Students watched in suspense. Slytherins were excited, and Gryffindors were fearful. Snape picked up the toad in his left and a spoonful of the now acid green mixture in his right. He trickled a few drops down it's throat.

The amphibian gulped, and there was a small pop. Trevor the toad was now a tadpole, squirming in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into thankful applause. Snape, always the sore loser, pulled a small bottle from his pocket and poured a few drops on the tadpole. Trevor appeared again to be fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said, turning on his heel. "You know better than to help him, Miss Granger. Class Dismissed."

The five friends made their way up the steps and towards the entrance hall. Harry thought about what Malfoy had said, and Ron complained about Snape.

"Why didn't you just lie and tell him that Neville did it on his own?" Ron asked.

Malfoy and his cronies slid past them, a smug look on his face. But he was stopped by Alfred reaching out an arm and holding him by the shirt collar. "Oh, no. You think you can get away that easy, kid?"

The Slytherin fought to free himself, "Let go, yank! Get your filthy mudblood hands off of me!"

Bystanders winced or looked downright outraged at Malfoy's curse.

Alfred smiled coldly. "I don't know what that is, but it kinda sounded like an insult." Alfred looked around. "A pretty bad one too, if these peoples' expressions are anything to go by." He pulled, dragging Malfoy closer to him. _"Apologize,"_ Alfred hissed into his ear.

"Crabbe, Goyle! Take care of him!" Malfoy ordered.

The two rather burly looking boys faced Alfred, one putting a meaty hand over his fist, and the other one giving a toothy smile that was supposed to be threatening.

Alfred laughed without mirth. "You think that scares me?" He tossed Malfoy to the ground and waited.

"Al, don't do this," Matthew pleaded.

Malfoy, sneered as he picked himself up. "Do his annoying brother too, when you're done with the American."

Goyle made the first move, getting behind Alfred to pin his arms. But Alfred stepped back and slammed his right elbow into the Slytherin's gut. He immediately followed by bringing the same elbow up to the boy's jaw. Goyle went down, accompanied by the crack of bones in his jaw and a few teeth coming out.

Crabbe stopped his advance, afraid after seeing what had happened to his partner. He glanced at Malfoy apologetically, turned tail, and ran as fast as he could.

"Get back here!" his Malfoy yelled. Alfred's eyes narrowed as turned his attention back to Draco, who had the decency to look concerned.

Ron and Harry watched eagerly. But Hermione suddenly cried out, "Oh, my god! Alfred, what did you do?!"

Alfred's head snapped up in surprise. Hermione was coming down the steps with a heavily laden book bag. How she had gotten up there, or where she had gotten the books, was completely beyond him.

"You've been here the whole time, I thought. Malfoy insulted Hagrid and threatened his brother," Harry said, puzzled.

"Now he's getting what's coming to him," Ron added happily.

"And no one's gotten a teacher or..." Hermione stopped and sighed. It struck Matthew that she looked extremely tired. "Whatever. I've got to go. I'll see you at dinner." She rushed off.

Malfoy tried to run away while Alfred was distracted. But the American held out a stiff left arm in his path and the Slytherin boy hit the ground again when he ran into it. Alfred stood over him, ready to continue, but was interrupted again.

"What's this?" a new voice demanded.

Alfred's shoulders sagged and he turned around,."Oh, come _on_-wait. Iggy?"

A man in emerald colored robes with messy blond hair stood before the group. He also had green eyes and the largest black eyebrows ever seen.

"That's Professor Kirkland to you!" the man snapped. "Now _what_ is going on here?"

"He threatened my brother!" Alfred stated shamelessly, pointing to Malfoy. His finger moved to Goyle on the floor, "And his thug attacked me!"

The professor raised an eyebrow and turned to Matthew, Ron, and Harry, "Is that true?"

Matthew said nothing. Harry nodded. "It's the truth, sir."

"Not to mention he called Alfred a mudblood!" Ron put in.

"Is that so?" Kirkland said to himself. He faced the two boys. "Alfred, you have detention with me this lunch period for brawling with other students. I taught you better than that."

Alfred kicked the ground and pouted, while Malfoy smirked evilly. The smile was wiped off his face when the professor addressed him. "And you lad, have a week's worth of detention with me for the use of such a slanderous word and general malicious behavior. I'll see you both then."

Malfoy gaped indignantly. "But sir-" he began to point at his bandaged arm.

"No buts," Kirkland interrupted with a slice of his hand. He turned on his heel, and with the parting shot of, "Don't start a fight you can't finish!" he was gone.

"Wasn't that the new History of Magic professor?" Harry asked to no one in particular.

"Mhmm, Arthur Kirkland," Matthew answered, a small smile appearing on his face.

"And you say he raised Alfred?" he asked.

The Canadian sighed and said, "Yes."

"He doesn't seem all that bad to me," Ron commented.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter has been completed! I have been writing for seven hours and there's no sign of stopping. <strong>

** Thanks for all the reviews and everything! It keeps me going.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur clapped his hands together eagerly. "Alright! You're all third years I assume, what has Professor Binns been covering with you?"

Harry raised his hand.

"Yes, Mister Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Goblin Rebellions."

Professor Kirkland frowned lightly. "Why? Those are irrelevant. What else?" He pointed at another student who'd raised his hand.

"Just...goblin rebellions," the student said.

"Really?" he asked disbelievingly. Kirkland sighed, "Oh, my. This will never do." He paced the class a moment, thinking. He's made up his lesson plans according to what children were _supposed_ to have learned by now. If they really know so little...

"Please put your apparently useless textbooks away, and take out some parchment and a quill. I'm going to be teaching you all from the very beginning!" he announced with finality.

Students broke out into murmurs as they did what he said. Could he really teach it all from off the top of his head?

"We'll be starting circa the Ancient Roman Empire," Kirkland said with a smile, "Back then, they more commonly used staffs rather than wands. Rome was one of the first to use magic with a definite form. It's actually why most of our spells are in Latin..."

By the middle of the class, Alfred was snoring softly on his desk. He would probably ask his brother for the notes later. Ron was bored out of his mind and doodling in the margins of his notes, while Harry watched the teacher curiously. He spoke as if he was _there_ when this all happened. The way his movements became more agitated and angry when he discussed Emperor Nero's abuse of magic. Or how he would speak about assorted creatures of the Fae with either great respect or wariness.

Hermione practically skipped out of the classroom happily. "He's _such_ a good teacher! I'm thrilled to study under him. Aren't you?" she directed this question to her four friends.

Harry nodded. "He certainly _does_ make it interesting..."

Alfred yawned and stretched. "About as interesting as a lullaby, maybe. Mattie, can I use your notes?"

Matthew sighed and shook his head. "Fine, remind me later."

"What did you think, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"I think I'm going to need those notes too, Matthew," Ron stated mischievously.

"Don't you care about your grade? You'll need to be ready for OWLs you know," Hermione reminded.

"OWLs? Those aren't even close!" Harry responded.

"It's still good to be prepared," Hermione defended.

"She has a point, but I don't think we should be worrying about something _that_ far away," Matthew said. "I'm starving! Let's go to lunch."

Alfred scuffed his shoe on the floor. "Damn, I almost forgot. I've got detention. I'll see ya'll at the next class." He jogged back towards Professor Kirkland's classroom.

"That's got to suck," Ron commented as Alfred disappeared.

"What?" Matthew asked.

"Having detention with a parent," Ron said with a shudder. "I can't imagine what my mum would do to me if I was in detention with _her_ all lunch."

"The professor's not that bad," Hermione said confidently, "He should be fine."

* * *

><p>"I want you to dust and polish all the desks and tables. Then you must sweep and mop the floor."<p>

Alfred glanced around at the large room, counting the desks and gauging the length of the room. He frowned unhappily. "How am I supposed to get done with that by next class?"

"Work quickly," Arthur answered shortly. He handed the boy a feather duster. "You know you could just enchant the cleaning supplies, right?"

"I'd rather not," Alfred said a little too quickly. He took the duster and set to work without another word.

Arthur shook his head. What was wrong with that boy? He glanced at the American one last time. "_Someone's_ going to notice your aversion to magic eventually. You need to be comfortable with using your wand for things, at least while you're here." He exited the room, leaving Alfred to ponder.

Little did either one know, that in a darkened corner of the room, was an unnoticed blond Slytherin boy. He watched the whole exchange, and an evil grin spread across his pale face as he planned his revenge.

* * *

><p>"There you are!" Ron said cheerfully as their friend caught up to them. "How was detention?"<p>

"It was terrible, he made me clean the _whole_ room! Do you know how big that room is?" Alfred complained.

"Well, what did you expect would happen after pulling that stunt?" Hermione huffed. "Even if it was Malfoy and his goons."

"I'd do it again in a heart beat." Alfred stated.

Matthew shot his brother a look of warning. "Al, don't,"

Alfred said nothing in response.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin said. "Put your books away and get out your wands. Today we are doing a practical lesson."<p>

Students glanced at each other curiously and did as the shabbily dressed professor said. They remembered the last time they had a practical lesson, when the professor had released a cage of pixies into the class.

"Follow me," Lupin said when the class was ready.

Everyone got to their feet, puzzled. The professor lead them along a deserted corridor and around a corner, to see none other than Peeves the poltergeist floating upside down in midair. The insufferable spirit was stuffing a wad of bubble gum into the keyhole of a broom closet. He looked up and saw Professor Lupin.

"Ah, I see Loony, loopy Lupin has returned!" He said gleefully.

Professor Lupin's smile didn't fade. "You should probably take the gum out of the keyhole. Mr. Filch won't be happy when he can't get to his brooms."

Mr. Filch, a failed wizard with a bad temper, waged a constant war against students. But the Hogwarts caretaker had a special hate for Peeves.

Peeves paid no mind to Lupin's words, and blew a loud wet raspberry in the teacher's direction.

"Watch closely," Lupin addressed the class over his shoulder as he took out his wand. "This is quite a useful little spell."

He raised his wand to shoulder height and pointed it at Peeves. "Waddiwasi!"

The gum wad shot out of the keyhole with the force of a speeding bullet. It went straight down Peeves's left nostril, and sent the poltergeist zooming away, cursing.

A student named Dean Thomas exclaimed, "Cool, sir!"

"Thank you," the professor responded as he put his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

He lead the class to the staffroom, a place that students usually never go. Lupin opened the door and ushered them inside.

The place was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. The only occupant was Professor Snape. He sat in a low armchair, a nasty sneer playing at his mouth as he watched the class file in. He got to his feet saying, "I'd rather not witness this," as he strode pass the class. At the doorway, he turned to face Lupin. "I'll have to warn you. This class contains Neville Longbottom. I advise that you not entrust him with anything difficult, unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet, Matthew and Alfred had twin looks of disgust for Snape, and Harry glared. Snape was bad enough in his own classes, couldn't he at least leave well enough alone in front of other teachers?

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Actually, I was hoping to have Neville assist me with the first stage of this operation, I'm sure he'll do fine."

Neville's face somehow flushed an even deeper red. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," Professor Lupin said, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe for teachers to keep spare robes. Lupin went to stand next to it, and the thing gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Don't worry," Lupin said calmly. "It's just a boggart."

Neville had an expression of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the rattling doorknob of the wardrobe apprehensively. Alfred looked at it curiously, not knowing what a boggart was. Matthew had a bad feeling about it from seeing his classmates' expressions.

"Boggarts prefer dark, enclosed spaces," the professor lectured. "Wardrobes, gaps beneath beds, cupboards under sinks-I've even met one inside a grandfather clock."

The wardrobe hopped again, making some students jump.

Lupin continued like he hadn't noticed, "This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it for my third years to practice on. But first we must ask, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand. "It's a shapeshifter. It takes the form of whatever the wizard fears the most."

"_Exactly_. I couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin said. Hermione glowed from the praise.

"Thankfully, there's a simple charm to repel a boggart," Lupin reassured. "Remember that the number one weakness of a boggart is _laughter_. When you use this spell, think of something you find amusing. The boggart will then be forced to assume that shape. Now repeat after me, "Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" the class repeated dutifully.

"This _class_ is ridiculous," Malfoy could be heard to mutter.

"Now Neville," the professor said, bidding the Griffindor boy to come forward. "What frightens you the most?"

"P-professor Snape," Neville answered, barely above a whisper.

Nearly everyone laughed, even Neville had to smile, but Lupin looked thoughtful.

"Hmmm...Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?" he inquired.

"Yes," Neville said nervously. "But I don't want it to turn into her either."

"No, no. You misunderstand me," Professor Lupin said, now smiling. "Can you picture your grandmother's clothes?"

"She...has a handbag-"

"Don't tell me. Just keep those clothes in your mind's eye," Lupin interrupted. "When I release the boggart, it will see you and assume the form of Professor Snape. When it does, I want you to raise your wand and shout, 'Riddikulus!' and if all goes well, you will see Snape in your grandmother's clothes."

There were snickers and giggles throughout the class; the wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"Now everybody form a line! The boggart will be facing each of you in turn!" Lupin ordered. "I want you all to think of what you fear most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

The class eagerly shoved itself into a semi-orderly line. Harry thought of what would scare him the most.

Voldemort...returned to full strength. But even as he started to plan a possible counterattack on the boggart, a horrible thought came to mind. A skeletal hand, under a black cloak...that horrible rattling sound and that sensation of cold darkness...Harry shivered, looking around at the class.

Ron had his eyes shut tightly. "Take it's legs off...?" He obviously thinking of spiders.

Alfred seemed to be having trouble, as was his brother. Harry could hear undertones of their quiet conversation.

"There's so _many_...how do I know which one it will be?" one brother asked.

"Think of as many as possible..." the other responded.

Harry took solace in the fact that he wasn't the only one.

Professor Lupin moved away from the wardrobe and said, "Ready?" He waved his wand, and the doors opened.

Professor Snape stalked out, his eyes flashing. He advanced towards Neville.

"R-riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter. The boggart paused, confused.

"Next! Ron!" Lupin shouted.

Ron stepped forward hesitatingly. The boggart straightened and blurred, becoming a huge, hairy spider.

"Riddikulus!" Ron shouted.

_Crack!_ Brightly colored roller skates appeared on the spider's feet. It slipped and struggled to stay standing. This was accompanied by another roar of laughter.

"Parvati! You're next!"

The girl stepped up, and the boggart became a giant rattle snake.

"Riddikulus!" Parvati cried.

_Crack!_ The snake became a giant jack in the box, with the clown rocking back and forth like it had just sprung.

"Matthew, come forth!"

Matthew squeezed his brother's hand briefly and came forward. The boggart began to blur rapidly again. It stopped on the form of a young man with blond hair in an ostentatious purple outfit. His back was to Matthew, apparently not noticing him.

"Papa?" Matthew asked disbelievingly. He was never scared of...

The man turned around, revealing blue eyes and a scraggily chin. He frowned lightly and said with a thick french accent, "Do I know you?" The boggart, unusually, blurred again. It took the appearance of Matthew himself. Not-Matthew gasped, and sprouted. It became an older version of Matthew, with a look of mortification on it's face, as if being caught doing something dastardly.

Matthew grimaced and pointed his wand. "Riddikulus!"

_Crack!_ Not-Matthew sprouted again, but this time it became tall enough to hit the ceiling, and it's clothes became comically small. The class laughed.

Lupin patted Matthew on the back as the Canadian went towards the back of the line. The professor briefly wondered what it could mean.

"Alfred!"

The American stepped towards the creature. The boggart blurred, shrunk, and rested on the form of a woman who looked to be in her thirties. Her outdated clothing was threadbare and covered in dust. She held an empty pot with a ladle hanging from her other hand, "Nothin' left folks," she said sadly. The woman then glared directly at Alfred. "And it's _your fault._" The boggart blurred again, becoming the form of a pilgrim clutching an old bible. He pointed at Alfred and screamed. "Burn the witch! Destroy that which is unknown!"

Alfred took a step back fearfully, but firmly reminded himself that it wasn't real. "Uh, Riddikulus!"

_Crack!_ It's outfit became a jester's costume. The bible became a heavy phonebook and the boggart dropped it on it's own foot. The class laughed at it's plight.

"Harry, your turn!" the professor said. He inwardly frowned. What was that about?

Harry faced the boggart, hoping beyond hopes that it would be Voldemort. But such was not to be. The boggart stopped trying to free it's foot, and smiled evilly at Harry. It's form blurred, becoming that which Harry feared the most, a Dementor.

Harry froze, forgetting everything. He felt only fear, he saw only a Dementor. The cloaked figure floated eerily towards the boy, it's breath rattling through the single, black hole in it's face.

Lupin jumped in front of him, and the thing blurred, becoming a glowing orb, almost like a moon...

"Riddikulus!"

_Crack!_ It became a bright a bright red balloon. It flew around the room as it deflated, until it disappeared into a wisp of smoke. He turned to face the class, looking grey-faced, "Great job everyone! Class dismissed. I shall see you all next time!"

The class filed out of the room, leaving the teacher alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Done with this chapter! I, personally, was especially looking forward to this one. On to business! I'm <em>considering<em> a sequel, but I would have to skip the Goblet of Fire and move on to the Order of the Phoenix. This would be because I have more ideas for the fifth year than I do the fourth. **

**But have no fear Avatar: the Last Airbender fans, for I will _definite_ly be writing a APHxATLA crossover immediately following this story.**

**Thanks for the reviews and everything! It's great, I love them, and you all get virtual cookies!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur knocked on the door politely as he came in. "You wished to see me, sir?"

Three people were already in the room. Dumbledore sat behind his desk. Two chairs sat in front of it, and one was already occupied. Snape's lip curled in a sneer as he regarded the green eyed teacher.

The headmaster inclined his head, indicating the empty chair. "Yes, take a seat."

Arthur didn't sit, he simply stood near the door. "What's this about?" he asked immediately.

"Why so defensive so soon?" Snape asked with half lidded eyes.

"Stop that," Dumbledore chided his morbid employee. He faced Arthur fully. "You have no reason to think yourself on trial, Professor Kirkland. We simply need to ask you some questions concerning your young charges, Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams."

Arthur still wouldn't sit, but he did go to stand next to the chair. "What do you wish to know?" he asked carefully.

"I understand that they were raised in separate countries," Dumbledore began. "How were they reunited?"

"I...found Alfred in the woods, abandoned in the Ne-in the United States. I raised him like my own. I learned about his brother soon after I found him. I tracked Matthew down and adopted him from a Frenchman in Canada so that the brothers could be together," Arthur responded, remembering the story he had thought up a while back. Not far from the truth, really.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Where did they go to school before?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes in return. "Matthew started his education at the École de Sorcellerie in Quebec. He later joined his brother at the Salem School of the Magical Arts in Massachusetts."

"Mm," Dumbledore nodded.

"What about you? Where did _you_ come from?" Snape asked suddenly.

Arthur did his best confused-mortal-impression. "What do you mean? My qualifications-"

"Where were you born?" Snape interrupted.

Arthur paused as he tried to come up with something. "...England."

"Anywhere specific?" Snape pressed.

Arthur looked down. "No, but..."

"When did you graduate from Hogwarts?"

"The 1980's," Arthur responded vaguely.

"If-"

"Must you ask so many personal questions?" Arthur finally said, exasperated.

Dumbledore spoke up, "We're sorry about this little intrusion into your privacy..."

Arthur spun on the headmaster. _"Little intrusion-?!" _

"...but we don't know you."

Arthur stopped and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"We don't know you," he repeated calmly.

Snape stood up, and started circling the green eyed Englishman. "We've never heard of you. We don't know your power, we don't know your alignments, we don't know your history...nothing."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Maybe he could just give them _part_ of the truth...He bodily faced the three professors. "I was born in England, I went to Hogwarts in my youth as part of the Slytherin House, and until now I've kept a small government position. If you want anything further, then please feel free to look at my resume again." He swept out of the room, leaving the two suspicious men behind.

The moment the door snapped shut behind the irritated professor, Snape turned to Dumbledore.

"He's hiding something."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I can see that." He looked at Snape curiously. "Aren't we all?"

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Harry ended up loving Defense Against the Dark Arts the most out of all his classes. Professor Kirkland's class was entertaining to though. Unfortunately, his other classes were a different story.<p>

Snape was in a particularly terrible mood these days, and everyone knew why. Neville's encounter with the boggart that took Snape's shape, which the boy had dressed in his grandmother's clothes, had traveled through the school like wildfire. He bullied Neville worse than ever, and wouldn't hear anything about Professor Lupin. He's also been harassing Matthew and Alfred lately.

"Don't they teach this to you in America, _boy_?" Snape would demand when they made a mistake.

Alfred's sarcastic responses didn't help matters either. "Well, we aren't _in_ America right now, so why don't _you_ teach us?" Alfred had shot back in one instance. He got ten points deducted from Gryffindor, and detention.

Harry was also growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's Divinations class. He did his best to ignore the looks of pity and sadness he would get from the professor...and her followers. Yes, she was treated with reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to spending extra time with the professor at lunch times. They would return with smug looks of superiority on their faces, as though they knew something others didn't. When they addressed him, they spoke to Harry in hushed voices, as if he were on his deathbed. He hated it.

Hagrid, unfortunately, seemed to have lost all his confidence after the first action-packed lesson. The class had become extremely boring. Now they spent lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" Ron said after another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the creatures' throats.

Matthew shrugged, swatting Kuma's hand away from the cage. "I...don't know. But I wouldn't want one for a pet."

At the start of October, however, Harry had something else to occupy him. Something so enjoyable that it more than made up for his terrible classes. The Quidditch season was fast approaching, which meant practice time.

"Where are you going?" Matthew asked curiously one Friday afternoon in the common room.

"I'm going to Quidditch practice, the season's starting soon," Harry explained.

"What's Quidditch?" Alfred asked, propping himself up on the cushiony chair he sat on.

Ron and Seamus, who were playing wizard's chess nearby, simultaneously gave the American looks of disgust mixed with disbelief.

"Have you been living under a _rock_?" Seamus demanded.

"No, I've been living in the United States," Alfred said confusedly.

"The _equivalent_ of a rock when it comes to proper sports," Ron said drolly.

Neville entered the conversation coming down the stairs. "It's alright, we'll tell you the rules so that you can follow the game."

"You can come and watch the Gryffindor team practice if you want," Harry offered.

"Cool!" Alfred said, pumping his fist in the air.

"Where's Hermione? Does she want to come?" Ron asked.

"She's at the library," Matthew said. "She said she wanted to research something about America, since Alfred isn't the most reliable source in the world."

Alfred pouted. "Nuh-uh! I'm a great source!"

"Come on, Alfred! I don't want to be late," Harry said half-way out of the portrait hole.

The American gave a mighty and exaggerated sigh. "Alrighty then. Let's go, Mattie!"

* * *

><p>Hermione roamed the tall, dusty shelves of the library. When Matthew had asked, she made sure to give him vague details. It's true, she wanted to research something about wizards in America. But she hadn't told him that it was because of what had happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts class a while back. Matthew's fears were rather obvious. He doesn't want to be forgotten. The other is a little less clear, but she's figured it out. He doesn't want to grow up. He must be afraid of responsibility.<p>

Alfred was another matter. She suspected that he was afraid of being blamed. But that specter implied something that's happened _before_,as did the second one. A pilgrim...and witch burning? Perhaps the persecution of witches and wizards bothered him. But it doesn't happen anymore, at least, not as far as she knew.

This wasn't the only thing. Sometimes it seemed those brothers would act beyond their years. On the train, Alfred had called Harry 'kid' as if he were older than Harry. Not to mention his immense strength. Matthew had referred to America as a person, during his reaction to the Dementor on the train. There were times when either Matthew or Alfred would slip with their names, and begin to call each other something else. And occasionally, when they thought no one was looking, they seemed to privately reminisce on things long past.

Something was off about those two, she just knew it.

* * *

><p>"What are they doing now?" Alfred asked curiously.<p>

Him, Ron, and Neville were up in the high bleachers of the Quidditch field. They've watched the Gryffindor team do assorted drills and scrimmage games, for quite a while now, and it was getting dark.

"They're flying in formation," Ron responded, nodding to himself in approval as one of the Chasers made a flawless turn.

"Why?" Matthew asked.

"It helps improve their teamwork and broom mechanics." Neville supplied.

"Oh...wait, why are they landing?"

"They're done for the day, probably going to get a pep talk in the locker room from the captain, Oliver Wood," Ron said. He got up, stretching his limbs and shivering a bit from the chilly weather, "And so are we. Anyone else up for a warm meal?"

Sounds of affirmation came from all around. They filed out of the bleachers, heading towards the Great Hall.


	13. Chapter 13

"There you are Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, beckoning her to their spot at the long Gryffindor table.

The girl sat down, hefting her bag onto the empty space beside her with an effort.

"Dang, girl! How many books you got in there?" Alfred inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione put a protective hand over the satchel. "Oh, just a few."

Matthew pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose speculatively. "How much is a few?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the screeching of an owl.

The five friends looked up simultaneously to see a white owl heading right for the front of the room. It carried a bright red envelope. Other students took notice and started to snicker and wonder who it was for. The bird dropped the envelope on the teachers table in front of a surprised Mr. Kirkland and flew off.

"What's that?" Alfred asked, indicating the envelope.

"It's a Howler, but I've never seen one being sent to a teacher..." Ron said quietly.

"What makes it any different from a regular letter?" Matthew asked.

"Be quiet! I want to hear this!" Hermione shushed.

A hush fell over the room as it waited in anticipation for the show to begin. The letter began to smoke and Professor Mcgonagall muttered something to Professor Kirkland. A look of resignation passed over the blond teacher's face as he opened it. It leapt up and delivered it's message.

"ENGLAAAAAND!" it screamed in an angry German accent. "I EXPECT A MESSAGE WITH YOUR LOCATION IMMEDIATELY! YOU HAVE A BACKLOG OF PAPERWORK TO DO THAT YOU WILL _NOT_ GET AWAY FROM! INFORM AMERICA AND CANADA THAT THEY DO AS WELL!

Arthur's head hit the table in mortified exasperation.

The message broke off into a garbled argument in the background.

"WHAT'S THAT?"

"GO BACK TO YOUR SEATS!"

"I WILL MAKE WARSAW YOUR CAPITAL!"

"I WON'T BE ONE WITH YOU, RUSSIA!"

"ARU!"

The letter finally burst into flames. By now, Arthur's face was white, somewhere between utter terror and absolute rage. He rose from he table, and silently exited the hall.

Harry caught the significant look exchanged by Matthew and Alfred. They burst into laughter, as did most of the other students.

"Did you see Iggy's face?!" Alfred wheezed breathlessly. He took a gulp of breath and let out a booming belly laugh, "HAHAHAHA!"

Matthew shook his head and clutched his stomach, laughing quietly. "Oh god! Oh, I never thought that they would...!"

Ron patted them both on the back, giggling at the absurdity of it all. Hermione though, didn't laugh. Once again, she has heard countries referred to as people. She fully intended to speak to Ron and Harry about this. But later, when they were alone.

* * *

><p>Mcgonagall peered at her colleague closely. He was thinking of something, she could tell. One could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to puzzle something together.<p>

"What is it, Severus?"

Snape shook his head, "Nothing, Minerva," He got up. "Excuse me, I have work to do." The black clad teacher swept out of the hall.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks were a blur that Harry hardly remembers. His mostly dismal classes went on, with Quidditch practice three days a week. He hardly noticed the weather get colder until the first snow.<p>

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with how practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's going on?" he asked Hermione and Ron, who were helping each other complete star charts for Astronomy while sitting in the best chairs by the fireside.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," Ron answered, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Fred, who had followed harry through the portrait hole. 'I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Alfred entered the room next, his brother in tow. He boldly tapped the trouble making redhead on the shoulder. "Hey dude, I need help setting a trick up on Ig-ah, Professor Kirkland for Halloween. Could you hook me up?"

Fred's face split into a wide grin. He placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder and steered him to the side, where they could speak privately.

Matthew shook his head ruefully and joined the trio by the fireplac., "Hey, guys."

"Are you going to Hogsmeade?" Ron asked suddenly.

Matthew scratched his head. "Eh, I believe Arthur mentioned something like that at some point..."

"Great!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry plopped into a chair, his high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read his mind.

"I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black can't be stupid enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "Ask Mcgonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages-"

"Ron!" Hermione chided, "'Harry's supposed to stay in school-"

"He can't be the only third year left behind," said Ron.

"It certainly would be a shame for you to miss out...I suppose there can't be any harm in asking Mcgonagall." Matthew added quietly.

"You know what? I think I will." Harry decided.

* * *

><p>In Transfigurations class the next day, Professor Mcgonagall made an announcement, "As you are all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village. So don't forget!"<p>

Neville raised his hand.

"Please, Professor, I-I think I've lost my-"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor Mcgonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Oh, and I almost forgot!" She turned her attention to Alfred and Matthew, "Jones, Williams, Professor Kirkland has handed me your permission slips already." She addressed the class again. "That's all, you may leave."

"No, Harry-" Hermione started.

"Ask her now," Ron hissed.

Harry waited for the class to disappear, then headed nervously for the Professor's desk.

"Yes, Potter?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"Professor, my aunt and uncle-er-forgot to sign my form," he said.

Professor Mcgonagall looked over her spectacles, saying nothing.

"So-erm d'you think it would be alright, I mean, will it be okay if I...if I go to Hogsmeade?"

The Professor looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk. "I'm afraid not, Potter," she said. "You heard what I said. You know the rule."

"But-Professor, my aunt and uncle-you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand-Hogwarts forms and such," Harry protested, while Ron nodded vigorously in agreement. "If _you_ said I could go-"

"I'm sorry," said the professor, standing up and putting her things away. "A parent or guardian must give permission. That is my final word. You had better hurry for your next class."

There was nothing to be done. Hermione assumed an all-for-the-best attitude, and Ron fumed about the injustice of it all. Harry had to endure everyone in class talking loudly and happily about what they would do in Hogsmeade.

"There's always the Halloween feast," Matthew had said, in an effort to cheer Harry up.

"Yeah, great," Harry said gloomily.

Nothing made him feel any better about the situation. Dean Thomas offered to forge Vernon's signature, but it was no use since Mcgonagall knew it wasn't signed. Ron half-heartedly suggested the invisibility cloak, but Hermione stamped that plan out by reminding them that Dementors could see through them. Percy's words were the worst.

"Hogsmeade isn't all it's cracked up to be," he had said. "Sure, the sweetshop is rather good, Zonko's joke shop is quite dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack is always worth a visit, but honestly, Harry, you're not missing much else."

He woke the next morning, and went down to breakfast with everyone in a thoroughly depressed mood.

"We'll bring you lots of sweets from Honeyduke's," Hermione said.

"We'll have Alfred carry the bag so that we can bring more!" Ron added.

"Just have a good time, don't worry about me," Harry responded in a note he hoped was offhand. "I'll see you all at the feast."

He accompanied them to the Entrance Hall. Filch was there, checking off names and peering suspiciously into the crowd, making sure no one snuck out.

"Staying here, Potter?" Malfoy shouted, who was standing in line with Crabbe and a partly toothless Goyle. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

Alfred also stood in line, but he looked worried. Harry noticed that Matthew wasn't by his side like he usually was.

Harry shrugged to himself and made his solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze.

"Fortuna Major," Harry said listlessly.

The portrait swung open and he climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first and second years, and some older students, who had visited Hogsmeade to the point where the novelty had worn off.

In front of the fireplace though, sat Matthew. He was gazing into the fire with a slight grimace, as if remembering something painful. Harry took the unoccupied chair next to him.

"Something on your mind, Matt?" Harry asked casually.

Matthew gave a start, looked at Harry for a moment and sighed, "It doesn't matter...not anymore. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Alright then," Harry responded. He looked around, and noticed first and second years whispering and pointing at his scar. It was Harry's turn to sigh. "Do you want to go to the Library or something? People here are staring at my forehead."

Matthew chuckled and stood. "Oh, the plight of the celebrity. I suppose anywhere is better than here."

The two friends exited the common room. They made their way towards the Library, chatting about nothing. They came face-to-face with Filch, of all people.

"What are you two doing?" the foul caretaker demanded.

"Nothing," Harry said truthfully.

"Nothing!" spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Sneaking around like this-why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

The boys shrugged simultaneously.

"Get back to your common room where you belong!" snapped Filch. He stood glaring until Harry and Matthew passed out of sight.

Harry looked at Matthew as they walked. "Why _aren't_ you going to Hogsmeade with your brother anyway?"

"Nothing there for me, I guess." Matthew responded, "Alfred will probably tell me all about it later. You know how he can spin a story, I won't miss much." He spread his hands. "Besides, my brother agreed to carry the candy. Do you _know_ how much he can carry? We'll be all set."

"We aren't really going back to the common room are we?" Harry asked.

"Of course not, Filch is just a sourpuss." Matthew fell silent for a moment, and then smiled fondly in rememberance. "He doesn't like me because I kicked his cat," he added casually.

"_You_ kicked his cat?" Harry asked incredulously. He shook his head. "You surprise me all the time, Matthew."

They began to climb another staircase. They walked down the corridor a while, but were stopped by a voice from one of the rooms, "Harry? Matthew?"

Professor Lupin stood at his office door, one hand on the frame.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously. "Where are the rest of your friends?"

"Hogsmeade," the two Gryffindors said together.

"Ah," said Lupin. He considered the two. "Why don't you two come in? I've just taken a grindylow for our next lesson"

"A what?" Harry asked. He looked at Matthew, who shrugged.

* * *

><p>"Check out the haul we made on this one!" Alfred said cheerfully. He plopped two bags of candy that were each half the height and weight of himself, on the floor in front of a wide eyed Matthew and a gaping Harry.<p>

It was dusk; Ron, Hermione, and Alfred had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the biting wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," Harry said, opening the bag and picking out a packet of tiny black Pepper Imp. "How do you do it anyway?"

"Do what?" Alfred asked.

"Carry things like...this. Why are you so strong?" Harry asked curiously.

"Do you take some kind of potion?" Hermione pressed, thinking that to be the logical conclusion.

The American shrugged. "Nah, I've just always been this way."

Matthew, eager to change the subject, pulled out a maple flavored candy. "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?"

By the sounds of it, everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, the Three Broomsticks, and many places besides.

"You should have seen the post office! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves and color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has a new fudge; there's a bit in your bag Mattie, try it-"

"Alfred won an arm wrestiling contest with an ogre at the Three Broomsticks! Then we had some foaming mugs of butterbeer!"

"Wish we could have brought you some, it really warms you up-"

"What did you two do?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Nothing much," said Matthew.

Harry nodded. "Although we did go see professor Lupin and had some tea with him. And then Snape came in..."

He and Matthew told them about the goblet. Ron's jaw hit the floor.

"Lupin drank it?" he gasped. "Is he mad?"

Hermione checked her watch. "We'd better go down, the feast'll be starting in five minutes."

They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd, still discussing Snape.

"Would he really have poisoned Lupin right in front of Harry?" Alfred asked in a low voice.

"I honestly don't know," Harry returned as they reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which swam lazily across the stormy enchanted ceiling.

The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who had eaten their fill at Honeydukes, managed second helpings of everything. Harry kept glancing at the teachers' table.

Professor Lupin looked cheerful and well as he always did; he was in an animated discussion with the miniscule Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Kirkland. Harry's eyes traveled along the table, to where Snape sat. Was it just him, or were Snape's eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural?

"Dude, check this out," Alfred whispered in his ear. "Three, two, one..."

Professor Kirkland's plate burst into a mess of lights and noises that could be heard even over the happy chatter of the student body. The blond teacher tried to jump back, but instead fell backwards in his chair. He drew himself up off the ground, using the table for support. He shook his fist in their general direction. _"Damn it Alfred, I know that was you! We had an armistice!"_

Dumbledore leaned over to whisper something in the fuming teacher's ear. Kirkland cocked his head, and frowned. He sat down again in a huff, resuming his interrupted conversation. He paid them no further mind.

Fred Weasely reached over from down the table and high-fived Alfred. Ron shot him a huge grin. Hermione sighed and shook here head, as did Matthew. Harry snickered, expelling all negative thoughts.

Much to Alfred's dismay though, the feast was finished with entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding. The American's usual bravado was absolutely gone by the time Nearly Headless Nick finished reenacting his own botched beheading. He visibly tried to shrink down into his seat.

Harry glanced at the teachers' table to see Professor Kirkland smiling mischievously at the Gryffindor table. It must have been his idea. He out of all people would know Alfred hated ghosts. Apparently, the History of Magic professor didn't honor this armistice of theirs either.

It had been such a pleasant evening that Harry's good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, "The Dementors send their love, Potter!"

The five friends followed the crowd along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower, but when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why has no one gone in?" Ron asked curiously.

Harry peered over the heads in front of him. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through please," came Percy's voice as he bustled importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password-excuse me, I'm Head _Boy_-!"

A chilling silence traveled from the front, to the back of the crowd. Percy suddenly said in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quickly!"

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" asked a recently arrived Ginny Weasley.

Professor Dumbledore arrived a moment later, sweeping towards the portrait. A path was cleared for him and the five friends pressed closer to see the trouble.

"Oh, my-" Hermione grabbed Matthew's arm for support.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait. The thing itself had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors Mcgonagall, Lupin, Kirkland and Snape hurrying towards him.

"We need to find her," Dumbledore said. "Professor Mcgonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

None other than Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage and worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than a cackle. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between trees and crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added as an unconvincing afterthought.

"Did she mention the culprit?" Dumbledore pressed quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling an active bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Sirius Black has one _nasty_ temper."

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter is done! Hooray! On to the next! Oh, and by the way, I'm getting some stuff from the book too now, I hope you don't mind. I finally found a copy I could access!<strong>

**I just _had_ to do the Howler bit. And it was so fun to write! Thanks for the reviews and everything! It's real cool of you guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	14. Chapter 14

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall. They were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," the headmaster told them as Professors Mcgonagall and Flitwick closed all the doors in the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own saftey, you will have to spend the night here. Prefects, stand guard by the entrances. I'm leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he directed this last bit to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

On the way out, Professor Kirkland silently waved his wand. The long tables and chairs flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another casual wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," Professor Dumbledore said, closing the large doors behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly as the Gryffindors told the rest of the school what just happened.

"Everyone into a sleeping bag!" Percy shouted above the din. "Come now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon." Ron said to his friends. They claimed some sleeping bags and dragged them to an isolated corner of the gigantic room.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"He might be, according to Dumbledore," Matthew said somberly.

"At least he picked tonight, when we weren't in the tower," Harry commented as they climbed into their sleeping bags.

"I reckon he's lost track of time, bein' on the run," Alfred said as he prepared his sleeping bag industriously. "If he realized it was Halloween, he would'a probably come bursting in here."

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

Around them, people asked the same question: 'How did he get in?'

"Maybe he can Apparate," said a Ravenclaw a bit away from them. "Appeared out of thin air, maybe."

"I think he disguised himself," a Hufflepuff fifth year said.

"He could've flown in," suggested Dean Thomas in response.

"Am I the only one who's read Hogwarts, A History?" Hermione demanded crossly to her four companions.

"Probably," Ron answered. "Why?"

Hermione settled into the familiar role as a lecturer."Because, this castle's protected by much more than walls. There's enchantments to prevent people entering by stealth. A disguise wouldn't fool a Dementor, and he would've been seen flying in. Not to mention that Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered..."

"Lights out! No more talking!" Percy announced.

The candles went out all at once. the only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about and speaking in serious undertones to the prefects. The enchanted ceiling looked like the night sky, scattered with stars.

Hermione and Ron quickly fell asleep. Harry laid on his side, listening to their steady breathing. His ears perked as he heard Matthew's hitch for a moment, before it continued at a steady pace.

Around three in the morning, when many of the students had fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy asked in a whisper.

"No. All is well here?"

"Everything is under control, sir,"

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "They can stay at the tower again starting tomorrow. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor," the headmaster responded grimly. "Apparently she refused to let Black in without a password, so he attacked. Once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

The door creaked open again, followed by a new pair of footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. Harry kept as still as he could, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What of the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched."

"Very well, Severus. I really didn't expect Black to linger."

"Have do you any theory as to how he got in?" Snape asked.

Harry raised his head slightly off of his arms to hear better.

"Many, Severus. Each of them is equally unlikely."

Harry opened his eyes a bit and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to him, but he could see Percy's face rapt with attention, and Snape's angry profile.

"You do remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before-ah-the start of the term?" Snape said this through barely open lips, like he was trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"Yes," Dumbledore responded in a warning tone.

"He must have had help getting into the school. I did express my concerns when you appointed those two-"

"Not a single person would have helped Black enter it." Dumbledore said resolutely. His tone made it clear that the subject was closed, so Snape remained silent. "I must go down to the Dementors." Dumbledore sighed resignedly, "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy asked.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said coldly. "But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape watched the headmaster leave with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.

* * *

><p>Th next few weeks were awful. There was the annoying new portrait that was put in to replace the Fat Lady's, Sir Cadogan and his fat grey pony. He spent half the time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords that he changed twice a day. Nobody liked him, but he was the only picture who would take the job after what had happened to the Fat Lady.<p>

Harry also found himself being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him. Percy Weasley started to be like a pompous guard dog for Harry, trailing him everywhere and giving his friends dirty looks when they so much as approached him.

He did his best to ignore it. The Gryffindor team practiced harder than ever, under the eye of a vigilant Madam Hooch, who had been placed there under Mcgonagall's orders to keep an eye on Harry. The weather steadily worsened, but it didn't stop them. But bad news came at their final training session before Saturday's match.

"We aren't playing Slytherin!" Oliver Wood had angrily told the team. "Flint's just been to see me. Malfoy's still complaining about his arm, so we'll be playing Hufflepuff."

"Nothings wrong with his arm!" Harry said furiously.

"We can't prove that, though," Wood responded bitterly.

* * *

><p>The next day, Harry and Matthew found themselves running late to Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Harry skidded to a halt and Matthew just caught up to him when he pulled the door open and dashed inside.<p>

Harry stopped and glared at the teachers desk. Matthew nearly ran into him as he began to apologize breathlessly, "We're sorry, Professor Lupin. We-" The Canadian stopped as he finally noticed that it wasn't Lupin at the desk, but Snape.

"Williams, Potter. This lesson began ten minutes ago. So, we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Matthew joined his brother and Ron near the back of the room. But Harry didn't move.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry demanded.

Snape's black eyes shone maliciously. "Nothing life-threatening. Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I must ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around the class. "As I was saying, turn to page 394." He stalked towards the back of the classroom and tapped his wand on an old fashioned projector.

"Werewolves?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

"But sir!" Hermione said, unable to restrain herself. "We've only began learning about Redcaps and Hinkypunks."

"Did you see her come in?" Alfred asked idly to no one in particular.

"Now," Snape said, ignoring Hermione as usual. "Can anyone tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?"

Hermione raised her hand immediately.

"No one?" Snape sneered. "How disappointing."

"Please sir," Hermione said. "An Animagus is one who _elects_ to change it's form. A Werewolf has no choice."

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

This was an example of just how much the class loathed Snape as they glared at him. Everyone has called Hermione a know-it-all at least once. But from him, it was unacceptable.

"Hey!" Alfred hollered angrily. He's had enough of Snape. "You asked a question, and she knew the answer. Why'd you even ask if you didn't wanna hear it?"

The class knew he had gone to far. Snape slowly advanced on Alfred, and the room held it's breath.

"Detention, Jones," Snape said silkily, his face very close to the American's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Alfred's expression was stony as he said, "Get out of my face, prick."

Snape recoiled, giving a look of absolute disgust and loathing. "See me after class, Jones."

The rest of the lesson was miserable. No one made a sound as Snape moved up and down the rows, examining the work they'd done with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained...That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia...Professor Lupin gave this an eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three..."

The bell rang at last, but Snape held them back a moment.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on he ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject by Monday morning. It is time someone took this class in hand."

The class filed out, leaving Alfred and Snape alone in the room.

"What do you want?" Alfred asked neutrally.

"What are you?" Snape returned immediately.

The American cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"The way you carry yourself," Snape explained. "I know you aren't a fourteen-year-old boy. Neither is your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alfred declared, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"What if I ask your brother?" Snape asked, his black eyes glittering.

Alfred shrugged. "He'll say the same thing that I am right now. You're crazy."

"We'll see about that," Snape vowed, his fists clenching. "You'll be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing for detention. _Without_ magic."

"Oh _no_," Alfred despaired mockingly, as he put his hands to his throat. "A muggleborn, doing things without magic! Whatever shall I do!" His hands dropped to his sides and his voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'll _try_ to pick up the pieces of my life and move on."

"Get out," Snape demanded angrily, pointing furiously at the exit.

The American gave a cheeky, "Can't touch this!" and ran off.

* * *

><p>"He's never been like that with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said to Hermione. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? Do you think this is still about the Boggart?"<p>

"I don't know," Hermione said pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..."

Alfred caught up with them five minutes later, in a surprisingly good mood.

"How did it go?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Oh, it's not to bad. I'll be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing. I'm actually surprised I got away with that much after...what I said to him," Alfred responded.

"What did you do now?" Ron asked. "But more importantly, what was the expression on his face when you were done?"

"I forget what I said exactly, but he looked down his nose and sneered so hard by the end of it, I thought his face would get stuck!" Alfred declared happily.

"I thought it _was_ stuck that way!" Harry put in.

They all laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>I finally finished this chapter. And for my next trick, I shall make another one appear from my left sleeve!<strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews! I like 'em, I love 'em, I want some more of 'em, (if you don't mind, of course).**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	15. Chapter 15

Harry found himself woken up extremely early the next morning. Early enough that it was still dark. For a moment he speculated that the roaring wind outside had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck. He thrashed a bit in his bed, and saw Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear. Harry lashed out at Peeves, knowing full well that it was futile. The annoying spirit grinned and silently sank into the floor.

Harry glanced at his alarm clock. It was half past four. He cursed Peeves and tried to get back to sleep, but was having a hard time thanks to the thunder rumbling overhead, the wind pounding against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. He exhaled silently, about ready to give up. But his hearing caught a whispered exchange between Alfred and Matthew.

"Mattie, you awake?" Alfred asked quietly.

Matthew could be heard turning over in his bed. "Ugh...what is it?" the sleepy Canadian asked his brother.

"I can't sleep," Alfred answered.

"What's wrong?" his brother pressed.

"Nothing," the American said obstinately.

"I don't believe you. Tell me what's wrong," Matthew insisted.

All was quiet for a moment.

"...I'm treated like a kid here," Alfred finally confided.

Harry could hear shifting as Matthew sat up in his bed. "You _are_ a kid here," he stated drily.

"It still feels weird," Alfred said.

"How so?" Matthew inquired. Harry could envision the Canadian's head cocking to the side, his odd curl bouncing.

Alfred sighed. "All I hear all day is, 'Respect your elders' or 'You'll understand someday' or 'Lad' or 'Child' or 'Boy'. Boy, boy, _boy_, all the time. The teachers, the ghosts...even the damn sorting hat. I haven't been called a boy this much since 1816!"

It was Matthew's turn to sigh. "You are a boy, to them. I don't like it either, but we have to live with it. At least for now," his voice took on a note of concern, "That can't be all."

Harry looked at Ron's figure in the bed next to him. His friend hadn't stirred.

"No, it's not. It's not even the worst of it. But let's not make this all about me." Alfred also sat up in his bed. "Something's bothering you too."

"Yes, but-" Matthew started.

Alfred's voice allowed for no argument. "Tell me."

"Well...the Dementors. They reminded me of...something," Matthew said evasively.

"What?" Alfred pressed.

"It's gone now. There's no need..."

_"Matthew..."_Alfred said warningly.

"_York,_" the Canadian finally exhaled. "I remembered York."

The American was quiet for a while. "...I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. We were both caught up in the moment. We both did some things...said some things...things that shouldn't have been said," Matthew consoled.

"Then why does it still bother you?" Alfred asked.

"Why does it still bother _you_?" Matthew returned.

The American was silent.

"Then you _know_ why," Matthew said with finality. "But like I said, it's in the past. We need to move on from all of that, and focus on _now_."

"Okay," Alfred said. He made a huge yawn, "Wow, it's five o'clock. Imma go to bed, 'night Mattie," His face hit the pillow, and was snoring but five minutes later.

Matthew was awake for a while longer, but he eventually fell asleep as well.

Harry rose from the bed as quietly as he could. He got dressed, grabbed his Nimbus 2000, and made his way to the common room. Harry plopped into a cushiony chair by the fire, and pondered.

1816? York? What does it all mean? Does this have something to do with Sirius Black? He had many questions, but few answers. He sat like this for a while, but stirred as he heard the soft patter of padded feet make it's way past him. He bended down and grabbed Crookshanks by his bushy tail.

"Ron must've been on to something about you," Harry said to the orange feline. "There's plenty of other mice around, leave Scabbers alone."

The cat slunk away, leaving Harry alone again. Even with the storm, the Quidditch match wouldn't be cancelled. Nothing so trifling as a thunderstorm would call off such an event, but Harry still felt apprehensive. What if he was blown off course thanks to this weather?

Another hour passed, and he began to doze off. Apparently he was more tired than he thought...

_"Harry!"_

He nearly jumped out of his chair when he felt his shoulder getting shaken. "Wha..." He looked up to see none other than Hermione, with her hair mussed and the beginnings of bags under her eyes.

She plopped down on the chair beside him, brandishing a large, aged brown book in her hands. "You won't _believe_ what I just found!" She didn't wait for a response as she opened the book and started flipping through the pages. She finally rested on a page with an aged photograph and tapped the page excitedly. "See?"

Harry leaned over to peer at the picture. It was a scene in black and white. Muggle pilots posed proudly in front of a WWII era bomber. "What? What's so odd about..." He stopped when he saw what Hermione was talking about.

A young-ish looking man grinned at them from the page. He wore a bomber jacket, like his companions. He also had a familiar cowlick and spectacles.

"But...that _can't_ be Alfred. This guy is at least twenty!" Harry said disbelievingly.

Hermione's eyes sparkled challengingly. "But the resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?" She flipped a few more pages, and landed on a page with a picture with the caption,_ 'The Paris Peace Conference'. _The picture centered on a neat man with slicked back hair shaking hands with...

"Professor _Kirkland_?" Harry gasped, "How old _is_ he exactly?"

Hermione shut the book and Harry glimpsed the title, _'The Muggle World in WWII'. _She got up, "I don't know, but I _will_ find out. I'll see you in a bit." She trudged back up the stairs, and vanished into the girl's dormitory.

Harry slumped back into his chair and glanced at a ticking grandfather clock that stood inconspicuously against a wall. It would be time to go to breakfast soon. Just a half-hour more, and he would officially begin his day.

And he would officially begin to investigate Alfred, Matthew, and Professor Kirkland.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, I know. It's been a while. I've had practically NO TIME since school started up again. Even now I'm posting this from a library computer because I can't go home yet. But I never abandon a story, so I'll find a way. I'll try to get back into things soon, but updates may take longer than the should. You have been warned.<strong>

**Thanks for sticking with this story and giving me feedback and encouragement. I truly appreciate it guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	16. Chapter 16

"Is he okay out there?" Matthew asked worriedly as he watched Harry duck and dive around players he could hardly see in the rain.

Ron, who was right next to him, looked through his binoculars. "I don't know," he shouted in response. "He almost ran into that bloke there. It's like he's blind!"

Alfred's voice carried easily over the whipping wind and thunder as he yelled, "He prob'ly can't see through his glasses in this weather!"

"Would it be wrong for me to hope he accidently swallows the Snitch again?" Ron inquired sullenly. "I don't want to be out here all day-oh, I think Wood just called for a time out!"

"I have a bad feeling about this..." Matthew whispered conspiratorially in his brother's ear. Alfred nodded silently.

Hermione, who was huddled under her cloak against the rain, straightened suddenly. "I have an idea!" She got up from her seat.

"Can I come with you?" Alfred asked suddenly, "I want to see how he's doing!"

Hermione nodded. "Let's go, then!"

Alfred got up and followed Hermione.

"Are they even allowed to step onto the field during a game?" Matthew inquired as he watched the form of Hermione and his brother run across the marshy field in the rain.

Ron shrugged. "It's not really covered in the rules." He went back to watching the proceedings through his binoculars.

* * *

><p>"Heya, Harry!" Alfred said cheerfully as he and Hermione approached the huddle of Gryffindor players. "How're you doin'?"<p>

"What are you doing here?" Alicia Spinnet, a Gryffindor chaser demanded.

"Oh, leave them be, Alicia," the Weasley twins said simultaneously.

"It's not like we're playing right now," Fred stated dismissively.

"Or at least playing well," George added slyly.

Harry shook his head, ignoring the exchange between is teammates. "I can hardly see with these things!" He gestured to his rain-splattered glasses.

"Give those here," Hermione said as she pulled out her wand. The assembled team watched in awe of she tapped the glasses' rim and said, "_Impervius!_" she handed them back to Harry, "Now they'll repel the water!"

Wood looked like he would kiss her, but instead he shouted to his team, "Okay! let's go!"

* * *

><p>Matthew tugged on Ron's sleeve urgently.<p>

"What?" Ron asked irritatedly. The game was just starting up again!

Matthew pointed in the air and to the left, "Look!"

Ron followed Matthew's finger to meet with a disturbing sight. Dementors. Hundreds of them in the air, watching the Gryffindor team with a suspicious amount of interest...

Hermione's voice could be heard as she rejoined them on the bleachers. "I'm back!" She sat down next to Matthew and said, "I enchanted his glasses to repel water!"

Ron smiled gratefully, the Dementors already forgotten. "Sometimes it's good that you're smart!"

Hermione huffed and reached over to smack a snickering Ron on the arm.

Matthew tapped both of their shoulders. "Have you forgotten the Dementors in the air?"

"Dementors?!" Hermione gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth despite herself.

Matthew gestured towards the Dementors again. "Yes, they're not really doing anything right now though...Hey, where's Alfred?"

"He insisted upon staying behind!" Hermione answered. "Said something about front-row seats!"

The conversation was interrupted when people in the stands began to shout, some even screaming. The Dementors swarmed around Harry, there was a flash of lightning, and Harry was leaving a trail of smoke as he plummeted towards the ground. A figure darted out from the side of the field, straight towards the boy.

"Is that Alfred?!" Ron asked.

"What is he _doing_?" Hermione demanded shrilly. "He couldn't possibly-!"

Alfred held out his arms and caught Harry easily, as if he was just catching pillow thrown from above. Madam Hooch and several other teachers ran to meet the two boys. Alfred handed a limp Harry off to Professor Lupin, who carried Harry off towards the infirmary. Professor Dumbledore seemed to regard Alfred curiously, then pat him on the back and followed Lupin off the field.

"Is that Professor Kirkland?" Hermione asked.

Ron peered closely at the scene. "I'd know those eyebrows anywhere."

Kirkland, clad in emerald robes as usual, swept onto the field. He made a beeline towards Alfred, who regarded the History of Magic teacher with his arms crossed. Kirkland said something to him, and the boy shrugged. The blond teacher turned on his heel and beckoned Alfred to follow him.

"I'd better go see what they're doing," Matthew said almost nervously. He got up and left the two Gryffindors to their own devices.

Ron looked at Hermione, and Hermione looked at Ron. Ron scratched his head. "Wait...Harry was falling rather fast..."

Hermione nodded, following his line of thought. "Alfred wasn't even hurt..."

"He was rather fast too...running out there. Like the devil himself was on his tail," Ron added speculatively.

Hermione gathered herself to go. "Well, everyone's leaving. Let's go see Harry, he should be in the infirmary by now."

* * *

><p>"You shouldn't have drawn so much attention to yourself, Alfred!" Arthur scolded, his dark eyebrows furrowing angrily.<p>

Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well what was I supposed to do? Let him fall?" Alfred demanded.

"The ground was soft, he would've been fine!" Arthur shot back. He brushed a hand through his hair tiredly. "What am I going to _do_ with you?" The green eyed man began to pace the room. "Dumbledore has been breathing down my neck for weeks, and Severus is hovering around me every chance he can get! This doesn't help my case, Alfred!"

"You said to keep an eye Harry Potter. That's what we're doing," Matthew defended. "Alfred was following orders in the best way he could."

"Oh, yes," Arthur scoffed. "By being 'The Hero' as usual!" He stopped pacing. "This isn't a comic book Alfred!"

Alfred set his jaw and stood nose-to-chest with Arthur. "Well it's sure lookin' like one _sick_ fairy tale. I didn't want to _b_e here in the first place!"

Arthur stepped back in shock. "You're telling me you _still_ don't believe in magic? You're telling me that this is all a fairy tale? That it's just a silly dream?"

"No," Alfred said with a glare. "But I wish it was!" He turned on his heel and marched stiffly out of the room.

Matthew looked on as Arthur glared at the door until it was completely shut, and then deflated, collapsing into a nearby chair.

"What is _wrong_ with that boy?" Arthur muttered. "I remember him being absolutely in love with every aspect of magic when he was little. Then I left for home one day and came back half a year later to see he refused to believe it!"

Matthew shrugged. "I didn't see him much back then, but I know a lot can change in six months."

"But _what_ changed?" Arthur sighed. "If only I knew!"

Matthew frowned. "Whatever it is..." he said slowly. "It's been bothering him even more lately since the boggart."

The Englishman perked up. "Boggart? There was a boggart?"

Matthew nodded. "Mhmm. He saw what looked like a dusty victim of the Great Depression blaming him for the absence of soup in her pot. Then he saw a..." Matthew's eyes widened as he figured it out. "Oh, I get it now."

Arthur leaned forward. "What is it? What did he see?"

Matthew shook his head. "I think I know what happened in that six month gap to make him hate magic. But this...it's up to him to tell you."

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, I got another chapter out. Everyone please take a moment to celebrate this. I'll wait.<strong>

**...**

**...**

**Okay then. Thanks so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews. I like to see people enjoying what I write, and I love to get your guy's feedback. **

**Later dudes! ^J^**


	17. Chapter 17

The first thing Harry heard when he woke up was Fred Weasley's voice. "Peaky? He fell over fifty feet! Let's throw you off the astronomy tower and see how you look, Ronald."

Harry found the strength to smile. He was safe, and away from the Dementors. "I bet he'd look a quite a bit better than he normally does," Harry croaked out hoarsely as he opened his eyes.

Harry was met with the smiling faces of his closest friends. Alfred and Matthew on his left, Ron and Hermione on his right. Neville, his face half-painted in red, was there too, along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, her face showing clear signs of worry.

"Brilliant!" Harry reassured as he sat up in the bed and looked around. He was in the infirmary. His glasses sat on the bedside table next to him. He looked down at himself and noticed that someone had changed him out of his Quidditch clothes and into a red sweater and pants. He briefly wondered who that was, but quickly expelled the thought from his mind as he asked, "What happened?"

"You fell off your broom!" Fred Weasley supplied.

"Gave us a right good scare, mate," George added.

"Alfred caught you, though," Neville said happily. "He even made it look easy!"

"Really?" Harry asked. He had more important things on his mind though. "I meant the match. Who won?"

Matthew fidgeted uncomfortably. "Eh...we lost...sorry."

"No one blames you, Harry," Hermione added quickly. "Dementors aren't even supposed to enter school grounds. Dumbledore was furious! He sent them straight off!"

"There's something else," Ron said hesitatingly. He stepped forward and Harry saw what looked like a pile of twigs wrapped in his Quidditch cloak.

Harry raised an eyebrow. What could kindling have to do with...

"Your broom blew into the Whomping Willow and well..." Ron paused as he withdrew a charred stick that had a familiar gold lettering on one end. "... you know the Whomping Willow, it...it doesn't like to get hit.

Harry looked at the remnants of his once beautiful broomstick in dismay. He felt like he'd lost an old friend.

* * *

><p>"Oh, he looked absolutely devastated," Ron said sadly.<p>

"He'll be back in class on Monday," Matthew said almost hopefully. "Things will be better then."

The three friends went into the Great Hall for dinner that evening. Hermione decided it was a good time to get some answers out of Alfred and Matthew.

"Matthew, I'm curious," Hermione said, leaning over the table towards him. "Where were you born?"

Matthew glanced almost pleadingly at his brother, who apparently hadn't heard and was chatting happily with another student. He looked back at the bushy haired girl nervously. "I-I was born in...Quebec."

"Quebec? How interesting," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at his hesitation. She continued, "What year were you born?"

Now Matthew looked at her oddly, "Same year as you, of course." He elbowed his brother in the ribs to get his attention.

Alfred twisted in his seat and surveyed the scene curiously, "'Sup, Bro?"

Hermione immediately set after the American. "Alfred, what year were you born?"

Alfred, was silent for a brief moment. He then turned on a Hollywood smile and said, "1980, same as you. Why?"

Hermione ignored his inquiry as she continued her interrogation. "Were you born in Canada?"

Alfred, instead of answering, he cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because," Hermione said. "You're obviously twins. Matthew says he was born in Canada, so you must have been too."

Alfred seemed at a loss for a moment, but recovered quickly. "Well, yeah...it's not a fact that I telegraph usually because well...I was raised in America, and my citizenship is there."

Hermione leaned back again in her seat, surprised. "Oh...I suppose I could understand that..."

"You don't really strike me as a Canadian bloke, anyway," Ron added.

Alfred flashed a smile. "Thanks, guys," He suddenly stretched his arms out above his head. "Oh, I'm tired!" he yawned and glanced over at his brother, "_Mattie_, you look tired _too_! Let's go, talk at ya'll later." He grabbed Matthew's arm and casually beat a hasty retreat.

Hermione looked at the space Alfred previously occupied in silence. She noticed that, oddly enough, his plate still had food on it. That's not like him at all. She glanced at Ron and noticed the redhead had forgotten the exchange completely, having dismissed the issue as solved. She would not give up so easily. Something doesn't add up. She just can't quite put her finger on _what_.

* * *

><p>Alfred steered his brother out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible without raising suspicion. He didn't stop until he found a deserted hallway where not even the paintings could overhear them.<p>

"This is bad," Matthew stated worriedly as he turned to face his brother.

Alfred nodded. "I hate to say it, but Arthur was right. We need to lay low for a while. Something tipped that girl off and she won't stop digging unless we can prove to her that we're just _normal_, teenage wizardlings from North America."

Matthew resisted the urge to stomp his foot on the ground exasperatedly. "But we _aren't_ normal, teenage wizardlings from North America! We _are_ North A-"

_"Shut up!"_ Alfred shushed urgently. "Even here we might be-" He paused for a second and then sagged his shoulders, looking defeated. "...heard...crap." He turned around to face one end of the hallway.

Matthew looked, but didn't see anything. "What?"

"Malfoy," Alfred sighed.

At the mention of his name, the Slytherin boy stepped from behind a column he slowly raised his hands and...

_"Don't,"_ Alfred interrupted, raising a warning finger. "Don't you _dare_ clap slowly. Nor are you allowed to say a cliched line, or snap your fingers to summon henchmen."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms. "I hardly think you're in a position to make demands of me."

"Oh no," Alfred responded. "The cheesy-ass 'convenient appearance' crap got old in the 1970's. I'm saving myself from dying of over-dramatization."

Matthew snickered as the Slytherin boy openly stared, not having expected such a reaction. He blinked and regained his customary smirk. "I just thought I'd let you know that my father is not pleased with how I've been treated by a certain insolent American here at this school." His smile somehow grew even greasier as he said, "I am going to expose you, and there's _nothing_ you can do about it. Unless," he stopped for a moment, presumably to build tension, and then continued. "Unless, you are willing to face me in a wizard's duel, on the Quidditch field next Saturday night say, eleven o'clock."

Alfred scowled darkly. "Fine, I'll be there. But I don't wanna see your face until then."

"Alfred, you don't have too," Matthew pleaded.

Rather than responding the American simply gestured invitingly towards Malfoy. "I believe it's your turn?"

Matthew quickly figured out what his brother was thinking, and smiled mildly, "Come to think of it, yes." He turned to face Malfoy squarely, who saw something in the Canadian's face to make him flinch back.

"What do you mean, it's his turn?" Malfoy demanded.

Alfred shrugged. "Mattie here would simply like to ah..._express_ his feelings about you blackmailing us."

Malfoy looked between the nonchalant Alfred and suddenly frightening Matthew, and decided it would be wise to leave. Matthew let him get about ten yards before he chased after him. Alfred waved happily as they turned the corner and dissapeared. He turned in the other direction and whistled a happy show-tune as he made his way towards the common room. This would probably bite them in the ass later, he decided, but it was _so_ worth it to see the look on that evil boy's face.

* * *

><p>Arthur watched Alfred and Matthew leave curiously. What are they doing? He also noticed that unsavory Slytherin boy...Malfoy, wasn't it? Well, Malfoy apparently decided to take his leave directly after Alfred and Matthew did. Coincidence? Most certainly not. The Englishman's musings were interrupted by a voice he'd come to hate in his time here.<p>

"Something on your mind, Kirkland?" Snape asked idly.

Arthur's lip curled slightly in displeasure. "It's none of your business as to what's on my mind, Severus."

The black-clad professor seemed taken aback and slightly insulted by the sudden and too-casual use of his first name. Arthur enjoyed the man's discomfort.

The dinner continued in relative silence for a while. The cackling tension was almost palpable when Mcgonagall finally decided to step in.

"Arthur, I hear you've had experience with the old-styled wands with charms attached to the end. Are they different from modern wands in practical use?"

Arthur turned to Mcgonagall and smiled, "Why yes, when casting with an older wand, one must..."

Snape watched as the two conversed. He studied Arthur in particular through half-lidded eyes. He watched how the young man spoke with eloquence that signified a nobler background, and how he carried himself with the air of someone immensely important. Throughout the school year, Arthur has spoken of many things at dinners and in the lounges with assorted teachers. He spoke of being on speaking terms with the centaurs, how he's met certain creatures of the fae that were thought to have been truly gone. He's even mentioned being introduced to Thor himself by a friend of his while in the United States.

Snape wondered why Thor, the god of thunder, would ever be in America of all places. But more importantly, he wondered how a man so young could have had more experiences than wizards twice his age.

The dark-haired teacher glanced out towards the students, who were finally starting to trickle out of the hall and off to bed. _Finally_! he was beginning to think that the children would never leave.

* * *

><p><strong>I have completed yet another chapter! Mostly because it's too hot out to do anything else! Yaay! And contrary to what one might think, there was actually <em>some<em> plot development, so have no fear. I needed the stuff in this chapter to happen in order to move on.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and stuff, each word of encouragement makes my day a little brighter. **

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	18. Chapter 18

That Monday, as promised by Madam Pomfrey, Harry returned to his classes. He was happy for the distraction from recent events. This was the second time he had seen the grim. And it was the second time he had nearly died for it. Was that thing going to haunt him for the rest of his life?

That wasn't the only thing, though. He's been getting nightmares lately. He always woke with a yelp and a cold sweat, left with the terrible impressions of rotten hands and petrified pleading. It was the Dementors' fault, he knew. He hated them. He felt sick at even the briefest mention of Dementors. Everyone agreed that they were horrible creatures, but no one else collapsed whenever one was near. No one else hears the echos of the screams of their dying parents...

_Except maybe Alfred and Matthew, of course. _

Harry shook his head and chuckled bitterly as he made his way to class. He didn't know what they saw on the train that night, but it must have been_ much_ worse than his own visions if Matthew's expression was anything to go by.

The black-haired boy sighed as he approached the door to Potions class. Malfoy was there, celebrating the liberation of his 'wounded' arm by doing a parodied impression of Harry's fall off of his broom. "Oh, you should have seen him!" Malfoy said gleefully to a group of Slytherin students. "He took one look at the Dementor and was so afraid that he decided he'd rather fall to his death than face it. And then his pitiful excuse for a broom blew away and was reduced to twigs by the Whomping Willow. The best part is that his cowardly blunder caused Gryffindor the game!"

Harry tried to ignore this and slip past anonymously, but one of the Slytherin girls suddenly pointed right at him. "Oh, look!" the girl laughed. "There's the idiot coward now!"

Harry sagged his shoulders and turned to face the group. When his eyes alighted on his nemisis's face though, he smiled. "What happened to your face?"

Malfoy's expression turned from terribly smug to morbidly embarassed as he tried to cover his forehead and left eye. "Nothing to concern yourself with, _Potter_," he snapped.

Harry pressed his advantage. "That doesn't look like nothing to me," he insisted with mock concern. "Why, you have a black eye! And something's on your forehead too...it looks a lot like a scar, a lot like _my_ scar..." Harry's grin grew wider as he said, "I didn't know you were a fan!"

Malfoy's pale face became tinged with red as he gave up trying to cover his face and stepped towards the Gryffindor boy menacingly. "Now see _here_-ah!" The beginning of what would've been an angry tirade was interrupted by a yelp of pain as Malfoy was doubled over slightly by an iron grip clamping onto his shoulder.

Harry looked behind the Slytherin boy to see none other than a casually smiling Alfred squeezing Malfoy's shoulder. "No autographs folks, I know you're a fan Draco, but superstar here has to get to class and would rather not be hampered by his..." Alfred coughed into his other hand. "Adoring fans."

The group quickly dispersed, leaving Harry, Alfred, and Malfoy in relative privacy in the corridor. Alfred's smile grew several degrees colder. He squeezed a bit tighter, eliciting another cry of pain from Malfoy. "I _told_ you I didn't want to see you again until Saturday. Now you're just being rude."

"Let go of me! My father will hear about this!" Malfoy squirmed under Alfred's hold.

The American regarded him for a moment more. "I do hope this isn't your wand arm, it wouldn't make good sport if you were ah..._injured_ again." He finally let go of Malfoy, who shot one last glare over his shoulder as he disappeared into the potions classroom.

Harry watched him go with a feeling somewhere between horrified and gleeful. He looked back Alfred, who was acting as if that hadn't just happened.

"What's going on, Saturday?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just a duel thing that Malfoy challenged me with before Matthew did a number on 'im," Alfred responded casually. Before Harry could even begin to ask, the American strode into potions class.

* * *

><p>Harry was curious to say the least. He hadn't had the chance to speak to Alfred or Matthew during potions class. Snape was in an especially bad mood, since Ron had thrown a crocodile heart at Malfoy. He took fifty points from Gryffindor for it. Harry resolved to speak with them during their next class, History of Magic.<p>

* * *

><p>"Professor?" Hermione asked as she raised her hand.<p>

Professor Kirkland looked away from the chalkboard to regard the girl. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione put her hand down and read off of her paper. "Am I correct in saying that the temporary invisibility charm was created by an unnamed wizard during the Roman Inquisition in Florence?"

Kirkland nodded. "Why, yes. You would. But be careful with your wording on that one. While the invisibility _charm _was created in the era you describe, it was not the first case of invisibility ever known in magic. An invisibility _cloak_ is a prime example of this, for those came about long before the charm did. Not to mention invisibility _wards_, which have been around for nearly as long as anyone can remember."

Hermione nodded as she scribbled something in her notes. "Thank you, sir."

Harry decided that now was as good a time as any to get some answers out of Alfred and Matthew. He tore a piece of parchment apart as quietly as possible so as not to alert the teacher. He dipped his quill in the ink and wrote:

_'What's the story w/Malfoy? -H.P.'_

He folded it into a small square, wrote Alfred's name on it, and passed it to Ron. He passed it to Seamus, who passed it to George, who passed it to Fred, who, in a stroke of common sense, skipped over Hermione and passed it to the next nearest Gryffindor. This happened to be Neville, who was able to give it directly to Alfred because he sat right next to him.

Alfred unfolded the message and read it through. He folded it back up and put it under his book. He tore a piece of paper of his own and wrote on it, folded it up, and gave it to Neville, who gave it to Fred, who passed it to George, who passed it to Seamus, who gave it to Ron, who delivered it to Harry.

Harry unfolded it to see in a bold, heavy hand,**_'I don't like him. -A.F.J'_**

Harry sighed inwardly and prepared another note. _'Elaborate? -H.P.'_

Harry coughed to cover a laugh at the response. _**'He challenged me to a duel, and circumstance forced me to accept. Mat didn't like that and decorated his face. -A.F.J'**_

_'He did that? -H.P.'_

**_'Yep. -A.F.J'_**

_'Brilliant! What's that circumstance you mentioned? -H.P.'_

**_'A private matter I'd rather not get into. -A.F.J'_**

As Harry found he needed more paper to inquire further, he turned around to get into his bag and get some. He came face-to-face with dark green robes. He looked up to meet the matching eyes and blond hair of Professor Kirkland, who turned out to be right behind his seat.

"Mr. Potter," Kirkland said in a flat tone. He exhaled and continued, "Who was the correspondant?"

After a moment of tension, Harry spilled. "Alfred, sir." The Gryffindor boy waited for a decree of punishment, for he knew how the professor felt about passing notes in class.

Professor Kirkland was silent for a few seconds before he finally said, "Both of you, see me after class." He turned on his heel and made his way back towards the front of the room, and continued class without alluding to the situation again for the rest of the hour.

The bell rang, eventually, and students began to pack their things away and trickle out of the classroom. Harry joined Alfred, who was already at the teacher's front desk. The moment the door closed on the last student, Professor Kirkland addressed them both.

"What was so terribly important that you felt the need to discuss it covertly in class?" the Englishman asked.

Alfred was the first to speak. "Harry wanted to know what's happened since he ws in the infirmary over the weekend."

"And?" Kirkland directed towards Harry.

"Nothing else important, really," the Gryffindor boy responded guardedly. He didn't know what the professor would think of his charge being in a duel.

"You're not telling me everything, that much I know," Kirkland said with a raised eyebrow. He sighed and looked at Alfred again. "Just tell me what this is all about!"

The American looked up at his caretaker with a neutral expression. "Something I need to take care of, that's all."

"Alfred," Kirkland said warningly. "We_ talked_ about this. Don't lie to me."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "I'm not lying, I'm just not telling you everything."

"Well, I think you're leaving out something rather important," the professor pressed.

"You don't know that, and you _won't_ know that," Alfred folded his arms. "It's none of your business."

Kirkland's voice raised slightly as he clenched and unclenched his hands. "Stop acting like such a child!"

"I'm not telling you, so get off my ass about it!" Alfred shot back. "This is exactly why I left you in the first place!

Kirkland shook a fist. "I swear to _God _Alfred I'll-"

Alfred cut him off with a slice of his hand. "What will you do exactly?" he fairly snarled. "Spank me? Lock me away? _Try me_."

Harry suddenly felt like an intruder. He obviously wasn't meant to hear this. The dark haired boy coughed into his hand to remind the two of his presence.

Professor Kirkland's head whirred in his direction, and Alfred suddenly found the floor very interesting. Kirkland straightened and forced himself to calm down. "Well," he said. "Since I'm evidently not getting anything from either of you, I will look the other way and we will forget this ever happened. I have more important things to do than babysit two impertinent students. Agreed?"

Alfred nodded and dragged a slightly confused Harry by the arm out of the classroom. Neither said a word until they were a ways away from the classroom. Alfred gave Harry an apologetic look. "Sorry you had to see that, dude."

"What was all that about?" Harry asked. "It went from covering up the duel to a familial row in the stretch of a sentence!"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, we just don't get along all the time. And I hate to admit this, but the stress has been gettin' to me lately. Artie isn't much better at this point either."

"Oh, alright then," Harry responded. He decided to leave it at that. He didn't want to say what he really thought. That argument was obviously beyond simple stress. "Isn't our next class Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yeah," Alfred said. "I just hope it's not Snape this time." He made an exaggerated shudder to drive the point of his displeasure home.

Harry laughed along, while trying to figure out the enigma of the third year walking next to him.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter has been completed. Although I sense this story may be longer than I previously expected, given the pace things are going. Oh, and congratulations to those who caught my shameless Avengers reference in the last chapter! ;)<strong>

**Thanks for sticking around through this story, and thanks so much for leaving evidence of your presence through reviews, favorites, and follows!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	19. Chapter 19

Harry was happy to see Lupin teaching the class again. The professor looked like he had only recently recovered from an illness of some sort. For his clothes hung off of him more loosely than usual and he had dark circles under his eyes. Nevertheless, he smiled at the class and patiently listened to their complaints about Snape.

"He was just filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves-"

"-two rolls of parchment!"

Lupin gave a light frown as he asked the class, "Did you tell Professor Snape that we haven't covered them yet?"

The class broke into a babble of complaints again.

"Yes, but he said we were behind-"

"-he wouldn't listen-"

"_-two rolls of parchment!_"

The professor smiled at the look of indignation on everyone's face. "You don't have to do the essay," he said. "I'll speak to Professor Snape about it."

Everyone was relieved to hear this. Except for Hermione of course, who was upset at having done the essay already. The rest of the lesson was very enjoyable. Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a frail and rather harmless looking one-legged creature with the appearance of smoke. Matthew's bear tried to break the box in order to get to the hinkypunk and eat it, but the boy managed a levitation spell that kept the box from breaking. Lupin gave him extra credit for that.

The bell rang and the class packed their things to leave. Harry chatted happily with his friends as they planned on a trip to the library for studying. but Lupin called him back.

"I'd like a word Harry, " Lupin called, "if you don't mind."

"No worries mate, we'll meet you at the common room," Ron said with a shrug.

"We'll totally hang out then," Alfred reassured.

Harry nodded and doubled back to speak to Lupin as the professor covered the glass box with a black cloth.

* * *

><p>"What do you think they're talking about?" Matthew asked curiously as they left the two alone.<p>

"I don't know. But whatever it is, we'll hear about it if it's important," Ron said confidently.

Alfred suddenly perked up. "_Speaking_ of important..." He gave his brother a half-pleading glance. "Mattie-bro, I need you to be my second for that thingy."

Matthew just nodded as Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What 'thingy'? Why do you need a second?"

"Oh, I just have some business to ah, _discuss_, with Malfoy on Saturday," Alfred shrugged.

"Business?" Ron asked.

"Like a _duel_, maybe?" Hermione asked, figuring it out. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how things are done in America, but I probably don't need to tell you that you can get in some _serious_ trouble for this."

Alfred gave a smile and a wink. "But thats the fun in it, darlin'!"

The Gryffindor girl took the liberty of swatting Alfred on the arm. "Don't call me that!" she chided irritatedly.

The American raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just thought it'd be funny."

Ron's mouth turned down into a slight frown. "A duel's no joke, mate," he said seriously.

"And I've only seen you use your wand successfully three times this year," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, that's why I've got Mattie here!" Alfred said cheerfully, hooking his brother into his arm and shaking his shoulder.

The Canadian's brow furrowed slightly. "Don't expect me to bail you out of this Alfred," he said.

Alfred laughed. "Oh, don't be such a worry-wart! I'm always the one doing the bailing."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Riiiiight."

* * *

><p>Harry left Lupin's classroom feeling lighter. If things went well, he wouldn't ever have to hear his mother's death again. He made his way towards the Common Room, figuring that since he had no classes left, he might as well. He entered the portrait hole to meet with an interesting sight. Hermione sat in a cushioned chair by the fire, as did Ron. Matthew and Alfred were both on their feet though, facing each other with wands out. Matthew made a bow, while Alfred just inclined his head and got into a defensive position-<p>

"No, no, no!" Hermione said. "That's not right. You have to _bow_ towards your opponent, Alfred. Then you need to bring your wand out where everyone can see it."

Alfred's shoulders slumped momentarily. He straightened again and gave Hermione an odd look. "Why the hell would I do that? That's probably the _worst_ move anyone could make in a fight!"

"It's considered respectful towards the opponent," Hermione explained, "like you see them as an equal." She glanced back to see Harry standing there and bade him to join them.

Harry sat down in a nearby chair to observe the spectacle before him. "What's this?"

Hermione leaned forward in her seat. "I read up on American dueling etiquette. While fascinating, many things acceptable over _there_, would not be acceptable _here_. I figured Alfred would need help."

Harry gave her a sideways glance. "So...you found out about the duel?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "Yes, and I heartily disapprove. But, since I can't stop this bonehead, I will at least prepare him." She waved a hand at the twins. "Try again, but bow this time, and use the stance I showed you earlier! None of this outrageous Wild West rubbish you've been doing."

Matthew snickered and Alfred shot him an evil look. Both brothers arranged themselves again.

The Canadian smiled at him slyly. "Come on, cowboy. I don't want to be here all night." He gave a graceful bow and gained a stance right out of the textbook.

"But that _is_ a duel at my place," Alfred grumbled, withdrawing his wand and giving a stiff bow. He straightened himself and raised his left hand-

"No, no, no!" Hermione scolded.

Harry smiled, they really _were_ going to be there all night.

* * *

><p>That Friday, the group of friends entered the History of Magic classroom to find Professor Kirkland missing.<p>

"Where'd he go?" Ron asked to no one in particular as he sat down.

"Maybe he has something to do, I'm sure he'll be back momentarily," Hermione responded as she withdrew a quill pen and parchment from her bag. "I believe that he was going to finish off telling us about the Celts today."

Alfred leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "That's all well and good, but I wouldn't object to having the whole class to do nothing."

"You _already_ do nothing in this class," Matthew snorted.

"...You have a point. But I can't be yelled at if he's not here," Alfred retorted.

Matthew looked like he was about to respond, but was interrupted by the door to the large classroom door banging open. None other than Professor Kirkland strode in, with none other than Professor Snape on his heels.

"I need to speak with you Kirkland," Snape said irritatedly. He evidently did not like having to chase anyone around.

Kirkland waved him off dismissively. "Not now, Severus! I have a class. Stop hounding me and find something better to do. If you need to bother someone, you can go haunt Dumbledore. I'm sure he'd _love_ to hear your ridiculous conspiracy theories."

The severe professor stopped, straightening his robes and exhaling through his hooked nose. "I do not 'haunt' things, Mr. Kirkland. This is a matter of relative importance, concerning one of my students, and one of your...charges."

Kirkland turned to face Snape with narrowed green eyes. "How about _after_ my class? When I don't have anything _better_ to do?"

The Potions professor nearly recoiled at the blond man's venom. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the classroom. The classroom of Gryffindors bursting into barely stifled giggles obviously didn't help his mood.

An overjoyed Ron leaned back and mocked wiping a tear from his eye. "Ah, what beautiful poetry."

Harry grinned. That was another point chalked up to Professor Kirkland in his book. He glanced over to see a smiling Alfred say something to Matthew, who nodded knowingly. As the laughter died down, Kirkland gained control of the class again.

He clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention. "Alright, alright. Snape's a prick, I know. _Trust me_, I know. Settle down now, we have work to do." He pulled out his wand and script wrote itself on the board.

Class went without incident and the teacher made no more mention of Snape. Although a few students were sure to make sure he knew how happy they were about the whole thing.

"Great job, Professor!" Seamus shouted as he left for his next class.

"Thank you, sir," Neville said with a small smile as he followed.

Kirkland smiled tiredly at all of these. For he was sure that Snape would be back any minute now since class was over.

* * *

><p>Much to the Englishman's chagrin, he was correct in his assumptions.<p>

Snape swept into the room, yet again. His expression was one of intense displeasure. "Kirkland," he said as if the very name made him sick.

Said professor glanced up from his papers. "Severus," he said with equal distaste.

"Stop calling me that. Only my friends call me Severus," the morbid teacher sniffed.

"Oh, please. You have no friends," Arthur retorted. He noticed the taller man's finger twitch towards his wand, and smiled to himself. Apparently Snape didn't appreciate that.

"Moving on," Snape stated with finality. "I came here on business. A student of mine, Draco Malfoy has informed me that Alfred F. Jones challenged him to a wizard's duel, and then Matthew Williams drew on his face and gave him a black eye directly afterwards."

Arthur regarded the teacher coolly as Severus continued, even more smugly than before.

"I am simply here to let you know that I have already informed Dumbledore of the matter, and he said he would deal with it. Especially since you have shown blatant favoritism-"

_"Favoritism?"_ Arthur interrupted disbelievingly. "The man who takes house points away from students just for being in a specific house is accusing me of favoritism?" He chuckled humorlessly at the pure irony before setting an icy gaze on Snape. "Get out. I don't want to see you in my classroom again."

Snape, to his credit, maintained his composure. If only barely. Something about that gaze...being rejected by Arthur Kirkland in particular...felt _wrong_. But Severus wouldn't let Kirkland know that. He turned about and made straight for the door, refusing to look back.

* * *

><p><strong>Allllrighty then. I finally completed this chapter. Things'll pick up in the next one, I promise.<strong>

**Thanks for all the love this story has gotten do far! It's really cool of you guys.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	20. Chapter 20

The next day, all Harry could think about was Alfred's duel. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation, remembering how Malfoy played him a while back and nearly got him into trouble with the caretaker, Mr. Filch. He told Alfred as much in the common room.

"Oh, no worries. If he's a no-show I'll book it right back here real quick, Filch won't even know I was ever there," the American laughed.

Matthew shot his brother a skeptical look. "That's very similar to what you said when you thought it would be a good idea to switch Ludwig's beer and Ivan's vodka while we were at a Karaoke bar."

Ron had walked up just in time to hear Matthew's response and gave Alfred a curious look. "I kind of want to hear that one. What happened?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his head. "Um...it's classified."

"Classified?" the redhead scoffed. "Well that's no fun!"

The blond boy shrugged. "Nothing I can do 'bout that, dude."

"I'll let it slide, then. For now. I'll get it out of you one day," Ron promised.

Alfred checked the grandfather clock against the wall. He grinned almost cheerily and heaved to his feet. "Well, it's almost time! Mattie-bro, come on. You're my second."

"Can I come with you?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Why?" Matthew asked. "If it's a trick, you'll get in trouble too."

"I have an invisibility cloak," Harry reminded them. "It'll get us out if we need to leave."

The brothers looked at each other. Alfred shrugged and Matthew sighed. "Okay, get your cloak and let's go."

* * *

><p>It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time the trio got to the Quidditch field. Harry was surprised to see that Malfoy had actually shown up. But that mischievous grin on the Slytherin boy's face didn't comfort Harry <em>at all<em>.

"I see the 'Hero' brought some of his friends!" Malfoy mocked. "All the better to carry you to the infirmary when this is over!"

Alfred casually glanced over Malfoy's shoulder. "Well, you ain't exactly alone, either," he said, indicating Draco's body guards, Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy shrugged. "Well, they _insisted_ to come and see me beat you." He pulled out his wand. "So, try and hold your own for _at least_ five minutes, if only to give them a show."

Alfred grinned and pulled out his own wand, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well I'd hate to disappoint your dear friends who took time out of their day just to come see me."

Malfoy smirked and gave a flourishing bow. He looked up at Alfred and said, "Come on, then!"

Alfred's grin dropped. He sniffed distastefully and made a stiff movement that could barely be called a bow.

Draco raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. He straightened and pointed his wand at Alfred. "Stupefy!" he cried, sending a green bolt of energy at the American.

Alfred dodged to the side, avoiding the hit. He ducked at Malfoy's second spell and jumped to avoid a third.

"Use your wand, Alfred!" Matthew called from the sidelines.

Alfred spared a glance at his brother, and looked down a his wand.

"Scared, Jones?" Malfoy taunted as he flung another spell. Malfoy's friends laughed and jeered.

Alfred said nothing as he dodged again.

"Why isn't he fighting back?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Matthew wrung his hands. "He's always been stubborn, but surely he could make an exception _right now_..."

Harry cupped his hands around his mouth. "Come _on_, Alfred!"

Alfred darted left to avoid another green bolt.

"Dance for me Yankee!" Malfoy said gleefully.

Harry looked closely at Alfred's expression in the dark. He _really_ didn't like that last remark, if the narrowed eyes and flared nostrils were anything to go by.

Malfoy paused in his assault and looked over his shoulder towards his heckling friends. "Not much of a _duel_ now is-" He was cut off by a tiny cluster of red, white, and blue firework blowing up in his face. He jumped back and glared in Alfred's direction.

Alfred stood with a smoking wand still pointed at Malfoy. "I dance for _no one_!" he practically roared. He stalked towards his foe, and wordlessly flicked his wand again. Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand and into the grass. The Slytherin boy walked backwards to avoid the American's wrath, but wasn't fast enough. Alfred grabbed him by the shirt collar and threw him to the ground.

Matthew spurred into action. "He's going to _kill_ Malfoy if we don't stop this!" He ran towards the duelers.

Harry didn't doubt Matthew's words as he watched Alfred step on Malfoy's windpipe. Sure, Draco was a prick. But Harry didn't necessarily wish his _death_ over it. Harry rushed to assist Matthew in breaking the two apart.

_"Let go!"_ Alfred demanded as his brother struggled to pull him off the Malfoy. Harry knelt down and dragged the pale boy out of harm's way.

The Slytherin student gasped for air and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked at the American in shock. "Bloody hell, his eyes are red!"

"What?" Harry asked. He followed Malfoy's line of sight and looked at the struggling Alfred. "No, his eyes are blue, like always," he responded confusedly.

Draco shook his head. "No, no, no! When he was on top of me! They were red, I swear it!"

Harry's response was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Cease this madness _immediately_!"

Alfred and Matthew stopped wrestling with each other while Malfoy picked himself up off the ground hurriedly and brushed himself off. Crabbe and Goyle did their best to look invisible. All students present turned to see Professor Mcgonagall march across the field towards them, followed by none other than Professor Snape and the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

"Care to explain?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

Draco pointed an accusing finger at Alfred. "He tried just tried to kill me!"

Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow. "Surely if that were true, your friends here would have assisted you immediately rather than stand aside and wait for your enemies to do it for them?" she asked, indicating Crabbe and Goyle.

Snape shot a hard glare at Alfred. "We could at least investigate this a bit further before jumping to conclusions?"

Dumbledore, who had been watching the proceedings from the side, stepped forward. "Hardly necessary," he old wizard said as he stroked his beard. "I expected something like this to happen when we accepted exchange students." He gestured to Alfred, who had his hands in his pockets and a neutral expression. "My knowledge on America is rather minimal, having not been there myself. But am I correct in saying that the wizards over there have a bit of a 'do it yourself' attitude?"

The American boy looked up at the teacher with a raised eyebrow, but nodded slowly.

"And am I correct," Dumbledore continued, "in saying that a magical duel between equals-even if they were underage-would be a matter that didn't necessarily involve the authorities?"

Alfred nodded again. And Dumbledore spread out his hands. "Then what we have here is a difference in culture. An insult was given, and the duel was called-" he silenced Malfoy with a gesture. "and it _doesn't matter who started it_." The Slytherin boy grumbled and subsided. "It is perfectly understandable, given Alfred's probable upbringing, that where we see an illegal underaged duel, he sees a private matter to be settled among his peers."

Snape didn't look convinced, but Mcgonagall seemed to at least be considering the possibility. "Even so," the stern professor said, "we cannot allow this to go completely unpunished, headmaster."

"What is legal across the Atlantic is not legal here, and it happened _here,_" Snape added. "They should be reprimanded accordingly. Potter here," Snape pointed a stiff finger at him, "could have explained things to Jones beforehand, but he didn't. So there is plenty of willful rule-breaking to go around."

Dumbledore began to stroke his beard again as he thought. "Well...you both have good points. As headmaster, I sentence these two Slytherins," he inclined his head towards Crabbe and Goyle, "to a weeks-worth of detention with Professor Mcgonagall. As for Malfoy, by being a participating duelist, has earned himself detention with Mr. Filch. He will be assisting the dear caretaker with his rounds every Thursday evening for two months." He turned and regarded the twins and Harry. "And you three will be assisting Hagrid with his nightly errands for the next week."

Harry didn't really see that as a punishment, but he didn't intend to mention it. He just looked at his shoes and struggled to keep his excitement contained as he nodded mutely to the three professors. Alfred and Matthew did the same, but the three Slytherin boys just stood rooted to their spots. Harry smiled inwardly at Malfoy's dismayed look. If only things could _always_ go this way.

* * *

><p><strong>Alrighty, the duel's been done and I even managed to squeeze in a sneaky reference to my other story. Ain't I a stinker? ;)<strong>

**Thank you soooo much for all the support guys and gals, every notice I get is another happy point added to my daily life. Tell me how I'm doing in a review, if you don't mind of course...**

**Later dudes! ^J^**


	21. Chapter 21

Malfoy scowled at the fireplace as he pondered upon recent events. Things didn't go according plan. He_ hated _when something didn't go according to plan. He was supposed to humiliate the yankee by exploiting his apparent aversion to magic, and then get him in trouble when the teachers finally showed up because he had told Professor Snape that the twins had challenged _him _instead of the other way around.

But things didn't turn out that way. Detention. He got detention because of the Yankee _again_. It was little solace that Crabbe and Goyle did as well, seeing as how they would be getting it elsewhere.

This would not do. But...there's nothing he can do about it, is there? Dumbledore, the supposedly neutral headmaster, actually _covered_ for them by blabbering on about some 'difference in culture' nonsense. Mcgonagall just went with it, and the only ally Malfoy had in that situation, Snape, couldn't do anything about it either.

The Slytherin boy's brow darkened as he sank down in his seat. He had also just lost the upper hand he thought that he had over Jones. Not only had Jones used magic, but as loath as Malfoy was to admit, he was _good_ at it. Despite the failed attempts at magic in most of his classes, that bloody American had bested him, a pureblood, in a duel.

And as the wands were away, and Alfred grabbed his shirt collar...those _eyes_. Malfoy was absolutely, beyond a doubt sure that his life was going to end right there if the Canadian and Potter hadn't interfered. He also recalled the argument the twins had as they wrestled.

_"Let go!" Alfred demanded._

_Matthew adjusted his hold on his brother. "No! Calm down or you'll kill someone!"_

_"Hell _yeah_, I'll kill someone!" Alfred snarled back._

He had glanced up at Potter to see if he had heard, but the 'boy who lived' was completely oblivious to what was right in front of him as usual. And then as the students were escorted by the teachers to their common rooms, Malfoy recalled another tidbit.

_"Take your medicine at the common room. No arguments," Matthew whispered to his brother. The American had just stared at the floor and grunted in affirmative as they walked. Once again, Potter hadn't noticed._

He could expose them like he'd threatened to do, Malfoy supposed. But he dashed the thought away. He didn't hear much in that conversation besides Matthew admitting that they _weren't_ normal teenage wizardlings. That's not much to go on. He couldn't expose someone if he didn't know exactly what he was exposing.

Malfoy sighed and glanced up at the clock ticking away the hours. Three o'clock in the morning...he should really be getting to bed. The Slytherin boy rose from his seat and made his way down the hall towards the boys dormitories. As he crawled under his emerald and silver covers he decided upon a _new_ resolution.

He would get his revenge on Alfred and Matthew, that's for sure. But he'd wait. He'd wait until his own power had consolidated further. When he'd gone up in the ranks of Slytherin House, and when his father was willing to search Ministry files for information on the twins' mentor Arthur Kirkland rather than dismissing it as unnecessary, he'd make his move again. Until then, he would wait.

But he was patient.

* * *

><p>"Alfred and Matthew, see me after class." That was the first thing Professor Kirkland said when he strode into the classroom. He looked like he'd missed some sleep last night.<p>

Alfred rested his chin on his hand. "Duuuuude, not cool." He said this quietly so as not to let Professor Kirkland hear.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So, I'm guessing the duel didn't go well?"

"Please don't tell me that git Malfoy beat you," Ron pleaded.

"No...I beat him alright..." Alfred said sullenly.

"Professors caught us," Matthew explained.

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore actually covered for us, though. So it wasn't all that bad."

"They _interrupted_ me..." Alfred could be heard to mutter to himself darkly.

"Al," Matthew said warningly. "We talked about this."

The American nodded and shut his eyes. He seemed to make a mental effort, then his eyes opened again and his attitude had made a clear 180 degree turn for the better. "Anywho, is anyone taking notes for this class?"

Hermione, who was a bit confused by the sudden mood change, nodded. "I am, of course."

"Can I borrow them later?" Alfred asked.

Hermione settled into the comfortable role of a conversation they'd had many times before. "You really should be paying attention, you know."

Ron rubbed the back of his head. "Um, can I borrow those too?" he asked sheepishly.

"What am I going to _do_ with you two?" the Gryffindor girl asked exasperatedly.

As Hermione scolded, Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder. "You can borrow mine," he said conspiratorially. Ron silently nodded in thanks.

"Are you even_ listening_ to me?" Hermione demanded.

"Nope!" Alfred said cheerfully.

* * *

><p>After class, the Golden trio bid their friends good luck with Professor Kirkland and cleared the room. Harry looked back to see the Professor giving the twins a frightful glare as the door banged shut.<p>

"Will they be alright?" Ron asked worriedly.

Hermione snorted. "Honestly Ron, you act like the teacher calling a student after class is equivalent to a death sentence!"

"Yeah, but that's more like being called in by a _parent_ for them," Ron shuddered.

Hermione shook her head and turned to Harry. "What was your punishment anyways?"

Harry shrugged. "like I said, it's not that bad. Alfred, Matthew and I are just going to be with Hagrid every night for two weeks."

"Oh, come on!" Ron complained. "I _never_ get a good detention like that!"

* * *

><p>Alfred and Matthew joined Arthur at the front of the classroom. The Englishman was giving them a full-blown teacher glare, which was enough to make at least Matthew nervous. Alfred seemed unaffected.<p>

"Do you _know_ the definition of laying low?" Arthur demanded.

Matthew looked up. "We didn't challenge Malfoy, he did towards us. He threatened to expose us if we didn't accept."

"What?" Arthur asked. "He _knows _and you didn't bother to inform me?"

"I don't think he knows," Matthew appeased. "I thought about what he said exactly. He was probably bluffing most of it, because we never actually let slip that we were Nations. He just heard me admit that we weren't normal."

Arthur sighed in relief. "Oh, thank _God_. I thought I'd have to Obliviate a little boy." He reared on a suspiciously silent Alfred. "Anything you'd like to share, Alfred? Like how I'm hearing rumors of certain American trying to murder a student?" Alfred looked up at Arthur and said nothing. Arthur looked the blue eyed boy up and down. He noticed the American's hands for the first time. "What's wrong with your hands?"

Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing."

"Alfred..." Arthur said. His voice took on a tinge of concern and he stepped forward. "Let me see."

Alfred took a step back. "I-I'd rather not. It's nothing to be concerned about..."

Matthew sighed. "Come on, Alfred. He's not going to do anything." He held out a hand to his brother. "We're just worried about you."

Alfred regarded the two Nations for a moment. He glanced at the exit, and then looked back. He seemed to come to a decision as he sighed and withdrew his hands from his pockets. He held them out, palms up.

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed and Arthur sucked in a breath. Alfred's hands were covered in angry red blisters.

"Al..." Matthew said sorrowfully.

"No more avoiding it," Arthur said in a tone that allowed for no argument. "What's going on with you?"

Alfred took a deep breath before finally saying what he's kept inside for over two hundred years. _"This is what happens when I use magic."_ He shut his eyes tightly and waited.

Matthew stepped towards his brother carefully. "Is this because of Salem?"

Alfred stiffened slightly. "How do you know about that?" he asked.

Arthur's eyes widened as he figured it out. "Alfred, Where were you in 1692?"

Alfred looked down at the floor. His response was quiet enough where they had to strain to hear it. "...Massachusetts."

"What happened m'boy?" Arthur asked, in full parenting mode now.

Alfred looked up and studied the faces of his brother and his friend. He decided that if he could trust anyone with this, it was them. "I was really little...you had just left so I figured I would visit some of the other little towns while you were gone. I got down to-to Massachusetts and found Salem...it seemed like a nice place, and the other children were fun to play with. One day, a little girl and I were playing by a small cliff. She tripped and fell over the edge. I reacted and used one of the spells you taught me." He paused and chuckled mirthlessly. "She found herself floating six inches off the ground and I found myself being carried off by a mob of angry people towards a burning stake. They tied me to it, called me names, spat on me, threw rocks at me...that was the first time I died. I woke up to find myself naked somewhere in the woods, probably where they threw my ashes." He paused and looked up at his audience. "I stopped believing it because I was afraid of it. I was afraid of what it had caused, and I was afraid of being hated for it. So I did my best to forget about it and move on."

Matthew gave his brother a saddened look. "And the blisters?"

"Left overs of my experience," Alfred responded. "It's part of the reason I hate using it."

Arthur watched Alfred for a full minute. Every Nation remembers their first death. And burning is notoriously the worst way to go. "I know you may hate this," he finally said. "But the only way for it to go away is for you to continue using magic."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"The more you use magic," Arthur explained, "the less blisters you'll get. Because by using magic you are coping with your experience."

Alfred looked down at his hands. "...Are you sure?"

Arthur nodded. "Am I correct in saying they are significantly less severe than they were when you first started the school year?"

"Well yeah, but..." Alfred hesitated. "Can it really be that easy?"

Arthur nodded confidently. "Yes. But of course you have to get used to the _idea_ of magic in your life as well. Only then will your body accept it."

Matthew put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We support you. You'll get through this, I promise."

Alfred finally offered a small smile. "Thanks guys."

* * *

><p>"Yo, my peeps!" Alfred called cheerfully as he and his brother joined them for lunch.<p>

Ron looked past Hermione. "Well you're looking positively chipper."

The bushy haired Gryffindor girl gave Alfred a once over and nodded. "Indeed...what did you and the Professor speak about?"

"Some stuff," Alfred shrugged as he and his brother sat down.

"That's not an answer," Hermione pressed.

"Oh, lay off Hermione," Harry finally said. "It's not really our business anyways."

"You know what _is_ our business?" Ron leaned forward and his eyes twinkled. Ravenclaw will be playing Hufflepuff at the end of November. We all know that Ravenclaw is going to _flatten_ Hufflepuff. Gryffindor's not out of the running yet, you know."

Harry smiled, he had forgotten about that. This means Wood will stop being so down in the dumps. And with the Dementors staying out of the way, he wouldn't have an issue.

A lull in the conversation caused Matthew to speak, "Oh, Alfred. Are you doing that thing this year?"

Alfred cocked his head confusedly. "What thing?-oh!" He snapped his fingers and smiled as it dawned on him. "Totally!"

"Thing?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"An American tradition," Alfred responded cryptically. "You'll find out soon enough."

Harry studied the American's features. That was Alfred's famous 'I'm planning something and you better love it' face. This particular expression could bode either well or ill for anyone involved in his scheme. Harry could never be sure. He looked towards Matthew in hopes of gleaning some kind of clue, but the Canadian's calm visage was unreadable.

Oh, well. He'd just have to wait and find out.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter has been completed! Hooray!<strong>

**Alright, I don't know how you guys may take this but...the red eyes thing is not 2P. It's a reference to another story I'm working on that I just decided to stick in there for the fun of it. I hope you don't mind... :/**

**Anywho, thanks so much for the reviews and everything! They are the butter to my bread and my bread would be terribly plain without it.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	22. Chapter 22

About a week passed normally for Harry. Although if anything of note had happened within that time frame, he probably hadn't noticed. He's been to busy with constant Quidditch practice thanks to his team's second chance at glory. Wood had regained his customary fervor and was working them harder than ever. But every Thursday evening, Harry would return to the Gryffindor Common Room with dragging feet and a grin. All the work would be worth it in the end.

When he wasn't doing Quidditch, he was doing homework. Everyone agreed that Snape was an absolutely miserable teacher to have, he only seemed to get more sour as the year progressed. The essays he gave increased in number and length, and he became even harder on his students' potions in class. Harry actually counted himself as one of the luckier ones though...especially compared to Alfred and Matthew. It's as if Snape had decided one day to make their lives as miserable as possible without resorting to the Cruciatus Curse!

A particular incident in Potions Class comes to mind.

Alfred was paired up with Harry for a class assignment. Alfred saw this as luck, but Harry felt that this was so Snape could torment his least favorite students with more convenience. So, the pair did their best to do the potion as accurately as possible, considering that Snape would probably jump on the opportunity to fail them at the slightest provocation. Alfred made the mistake of asking Harry for the mermaid scales at a volume slightly louder than an especially shy librarian.

"Jones," Snape scolded from his desk. "Try and speak at a level appropriate for the classroom."

Alfred rolled his eyes and glanced at Harry as if to say, 'Seriously, dude?'

Harry shrugged and handed him the ingredient. Alfred silently nodded in thanks and added a few to the simmering orange mixture in their cauldron.

Some Slytherin kid that Harry hardly knew sat nearby. He elbowed his partner, and smirked. The Gryffindor boy caught a muttered, "Watch this."

Before Harry could warn anyone, the Slytherin boy used his knife to fling a dampened clump of goblin earwax towards the student sitting directly in front of him, which happened to be Matthew.

The Canadian looked up from his book as the disgusting thing met the back of his head with a wet_ slap! _He gingerly felt the area he was hit, his fingers easily finding the thing tangled in his blond hair. He sighed and looked around, presumably to find the offender.

"Eyes on your own work, Williams," Snape droned, not bothering to look up from his papers.

Matthew grimaced as he looked back at his cauldron, his fingers still trying to pick the stuff out. He surveyed his table and whispered something to his partner, who shook her head apologetically. Matthew slid off of his stool and began to make his way towards the sinks, but Snape stopped him again.

"You can't possibly be done already, Mr. Williams," Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

Matthew shook his head. "No sir, I-"

"Back to your seat, Williams," Snape interrupted. Harry thought he could see Snape's black eyes glittering almost gleefully.

"But-" Matthew started.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "Now _back_ to your _seat_."

The boy's eyebrows went down into a slight furrow and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He turned and rejoined his partner silently. He was angry, that much Harry could tell. But he wasn't going to let it get the better of him.

Alfred was another story though. He looked into his cauldron with a frown, his blue eyes showing clear hate for the man at the front of the room. Harry squeezed his arm reassuringly. The class period was only a few minutes from ending anyway. The American's brow cleared, and Harry gave a mental sigh of relief. He'd just averted a disaster.

Aside from Potions, Harry found his other classes bearable. Professor Kirkland never ceased to fascinate him with his anecdotes. This resulted in the best grade he'd ever gotten from History of Magic. Transfigurations carried on as normal, although McGonagall had taken to watching him and his friends with suspicion. Defense Against the Dark Arts was going especially well. Hermione was thrilled to see Alfred taking to the subject with enthusiasm, especially after his duel with Malfoy.

Malfoy...Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of the disagreeable boy outside of class as of late. He wasn't complaining though. Being free from that git's taunting was an unexpected gift.

* * *

><p>One Thursday evening, Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked up to see a preoccupied Alfred walk through the portrait hole and into the common room. "Any of ya'll know where Matt is?" he asked.<p>

Ron gestured with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs to the Boys' Dormitories. "Studying with Longbottom, I think."

Hermione glanced up from her book for a moment to give the redhead a critical eye. "You should be doing the same."

Ron held up a hand as his face screwed up in concentration. He stared hard down at the chessboard in front of him, as if willing a solution to magically appear to him. "...Knight to E3," he finally said, moving the small white game piece across the board. He leaned back and saw Harry spacing out. "Harry," he reached over and poked his friend. "It's your turn,"

Harry, who had been staring up at the direction Alfred had gone, snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the board. "Oh, uh...Bishop to B6."

Ron looked down at the board and then back up at Harry. "Something on your mind, mate?" he asked. "Because that was a stupid move, even for you." His piece moved forward a space and it destroyed Harry's King. "Checkmate."

Harry payed little attention to this. "Did anyone else notice that Al had a ladle in his hand?"

Hermione gave Harry a skeptical look. "Are you sure about that?"

Harry's response was cut off by the sound of the Boys' Dormitory door slamming shut and the patter of rapid footsteps on stone. Alfred returned, with his rather reluctant looking pajama-clad brother in tow.

Matthew tried in vain to free himself from his brother's grip as he was dragged down the stairs. "Al, don't you think that-"

Alfred interrupted with a decisive gesture of his silver ladle. "Nope, come help."

"Alfred..."

"No argument, just help," the American responded shortly. He gestured with his silver ladle towards the exit. "No worries, I got permission!" He flashed a bright grin towards his dorm mates and shot out of room again.

Hermione snapped her book shut. "Well, it seems he did indeed have a ladle. But what could he possibly be doing with it?"

Harry thought for a moment, but then an idea struck him. "Hey, remember when he mentioned some kind of 'American tradition' a while back?"

Ron cocked his head as he tried to recall that conversation. "...Yes, I believe so. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "What do Americans usually do around November?"

After a moment of silence, Hermione perked up and snapped her fingers, "Oh, yes! I know what's going on! Although, I'm not sure why he'd feel the need to do anything, considering how our usual fare is more than acceptable..."

"So, where'd he go? What's he doing?" Ron asked eagerly.

The Gryffindor girl rose from her seat and gestured to her friends. "Well, how about I show you? It's no problem since he has permission." She led them out of the dormitory, and to a familiar secret entrance.

Ron looked at it with confusion. "The kitchens?" He glanced towards his friend for help, but Harry could only shrug. He had no idea as to what was going on. Hermione smiled and took the liberty of opening the entrance, to be met with an interesting sight.

The house elves flitted about, cooking and cleaning as was their job. But Harry saw Matthew among their ranks, stirring a small pot that simmered on a stove. Alfred stood by a large oven, giving occasional orders to elves and staring into the glowing oven intently.

"Alfred!" Hermione said as she lead Harry and Ron over. "Do you need any help here?"

The blond boy looked at his friends. He was positively glowing with joy. "Oh, good! You're here-" the oven made a dinging sound and Alfred peeked into it. "Mattie, I need that glaze!" Alfred called, his voice carrying easily over the din.

Matthew nodded and gave his pot a final stir. He lifted it off the stove and rapidly carried it across the room towards Alfred. The American looked at it's contents and nodded happily. He wrenched the giant metal doors to the oven completely open, quite a feat for a fourteen year old to do alone, and began to distribute it's contents over the tops of several large turkeys that were revealed to be inside. He slammed the heavy doors shut and placed his hands on his hips confidently.

Matthew turned and headed towards a group of house elves that were chopping up pumpkins into halves and placing them on trays. He picked up a full tray in each hand and carried them towards an equally large oven about two down from Alfred's.

"What _is_ all this?" Harry asked as he looked around the kitchens in awe.

"Thanksgiving!" Alfred responded happily. His blue eyes turned intent as he gathered the three into a small group huddle. "Now I need your help. Ron, can you get the Gryffindor House down to the Great Hall?"

Ron's eyes widened. "The _whole_...yeah. I think so."

Alfred nodded. "Okay, get Fred and George's help if you must. Just _get them down here_!"

Ron stumbled out of the group and started towards the exit in a bit of a daze. Alfred called after him. "Invite McGonagall too!"

"I wonder how she'll take the news," Harry chuckled. This entire situation was just unbelievable!

"She'll forgive me when she tastes the pie," Alfred grinned. "It's my own recipe, and I make the _best_ pie." He paused to glance inside the oven again. "Besides, Dumbledore said it was fine!"

"Really?" Hermione asked skeptically. "The headmaster allowed you to take over the kitchens and put together an unscheduled feast for Gryffindor House?"

"Yeah!" Alfred answered. "Dude's been totally chill with me lately. The only condition was that I invite McGonagall too. And I was gonna do that anyways so it's no issue."

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly, but her smile remained. "Alright then...what did you need us to do?"

Alfred clasped his hands together. "Could you go grab Igg-I mean, Professor Kirkland? He's like family-well he _is_ family, since he raised me..."

"We'll go get him," Harry found himself saying. "It's no problem." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Great!" Alfred exclaimed. "Get him to the Great Hall with the others and I'll join you there in a bit."

* * *

><p>"Professor?" Harry called through the door. He and Hermione listened intently. The sound of paper rustling could be heard, and a faint sigh. The door unlocked a few moments later.<p>

Kirkland peeked out from behind the door, his blond hair even more mussed than usual. He didn't look very well rested either, with bags under his eyes and his clothing disheveled. "Yes, children. What is it?" the Englishman inquired softly.

"Your presence is requested down in the Great Hall professor," Hermione said primly, her hands clasped neatly behind her back.

"The Great Hall?" Kirkland asked as he opened the door a bit wider. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing bad," Harry assured. "Alfred just asked us to bring you there for a feast."

Kirkland arched one bushy eyebrow. "A feast, you say? Why would there be one now, of all times? Dinner ended hours ago."

"It's Thanksgiving in America, sir," Hermione supplied. "Dumbledore has given Gryffindor House permission to celebrate."

"Oh..." Kirkland put a hand to his chin. "That's _very_ interesting..." he mumbled to himself. The green eyed teacher regarded the students in front of him again. "Alright, since Dumbledore said yes...I suppose there could be no harm in it."

Harry smiled as the professor turned to retrieve something from his room.

* * *

><p>Arthur thought hard as the two Gryffindors looked up at him hopefully, waiting for an answer. Arthur hasn't joined Alfred for Thanksgiving very often, although he was always invited. But this...this was good. Alfred was <em>surrounded<em> by magic, and his celebratory mood is a sign that Alfred was coming to terms with it.

Why did Dumbledore allow it, though? That man's always been a bit of a kooky one, but there's a _method_ to his madness. There's _always_ a reason, for everything he does. So what was his purpose now?

Arthur returned his attention to the students in front of him. He could confront Dumbledore later. For now though...he hadn't eaten much today. And though he'd never admit it, Alfred made good pie.

* * *

><p>Harry sat with everyone around the table, which had been arranged into a large square rather than a rectangle. The food was good. <em>Really<em> good. Who knew Alfred could cook? Harry especially enjoyed talking to his all of friends in Gryffindor. No jeering Slytherins at the next table, no leering teachers...it was great. And the new table arrangement gave everything a jovial and cozy feeling, despite the giant room. Even McGonagall and Kirkland even enjoyed themselves. Dumbledore's blessing on the gathering probably helped that. By the end of it, Harry and the other contented students barely managed to waddle back to the Common Room. He jumped into his bed, and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, this chapter's done. And I know it's a bit early for Thanksgiving. and I <em>know<em> Canada has a Thanksgiving too. But do you really expect Matthew to do what Alfred did and take it to Hogwarts? **

**Thanks for the reviews, favs, and follows everyone! I'm really not sure about this chapter though...Could you tell me what you think of it in a review?**

**later dudes. ^J^**


	23. Chapter 23

The drizzly days of the end of November and early December quickly turned to snow. There was a holiday buzz in the air as Christmas drew near. Professor Kirkland had actually surprised the class by decorating his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be actual fairies upon closer inspection. Students happily discussed their plans for the holidays.

"I'm staying here," Ron said one day. "I can't have me Mum and Percy smothering me for a whole two weeks!" He shuddered at the thought and turned towards his friends. "How about you all?"

Hermione shifted the strap of her book bag. "I'll probably remain as well," she answered. "It's easier on my parents that way."

Matthew looked up from his book briefly. "I'll be staying too. Alfred insisted on it."

"Well, duh!" Alfred exclaimed, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Ain't no one to go home to anyways, with Arthur still here."

Harry smiled to himself. He wasn't fooled; they were staying to keep him company, and he was very grateful.

* * *

><p>To everyone's delight, save for Harry's, another Hogsmeade trip was scheduled for the very last weekend of the term. Harry knew he would most likely be the only third year to stay behind, since Alfred wanted Matthew to come along this time. So, Harry borrowed a copy of <em>Which Broomstick<em> from Wood and perused the different brooms available. The school brooms were absolutely terrible, he needed a broom of his own soon.

On Saturday morning, the day of the trip, Harry bid goodbye to his friends. Hermione, Alfred, and Ron were wrapped in cloaks and scarves to ward off the biting winter chill, although Matthew seemed unaffected by the temperature.

"It's cold at my place," he explained to a baffled Harry.

"Yeah, mine too. Doesn't mean I _enjoy_ it," Alfred complained between chattering teeth.

With that, they parted ways. Harry turned up the marble staircase alone, with Gryffindor Tower in mind. Snow began to fall outside the windows, and the castle was almost completely still and quiet without it's resident student body.

He entered the Common Room and trudged up to the dormitory. He sat down on his bed, deep in thought. Why couldn't he go to Hogsmeade with his friends? It wasn't fair it...

But what's stopping him?

He dug into his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. He studied the shimmering fabric.

Yes, he would have to be careful. Dementors can see right through these but...he needed to get out of this castle. Despite it's great size, he was tired of being cooped up in it while everyone else went out to have fun.

He flung the cloak over himself and hurriedly left the dormitory. He paid little mind to the confused Fat Lady as he made his way towards the snowy courtyard. Hogsmeade isn't that far. He can easily make it in time for-

No sooner had he made a few steps through the snowy courtyard when none other than Fred and George Weasley appeared seemingly from nowhere. They each tucked an arm under Harry's and dragged him back towards the school.

"Hey-come on, guys!" Harry pleaded.

"Clever, Harry," Fred praised the struggling Gryffindor.

"But not clever enough," George finished.

"I'm _trying_ to get to Hogsmeade!" Harry complained.

"We know," the twins said together.

"But don't worry," George said lightly.

"Well show you a quicker way," Fred stated in a similar tone. Harry wondered why Alfred and Matthew never did that. It would make sense, since they were twins as well.

They dragged him to a side corridor near the courtyard and tore the cloak off of him. Fred shoved a worn piece of parchment into his hands.

"What's this rubbish?" Harry demanded irritatedly.

"Shhh!" George scolded, putting a finger to his lips.

"'What's this rubbish?' he says," Fred laughed. He gestured towards the thing. "That there is the secret to our success!"

"It's a right treasure it is," George said. "But we've decided that your needs are greater than ours. Fred, if you will?"

The ginger haired twin grinned and pulled out his wand. He placed it lightly on the center of the paper. "I do solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he recited.

The seemingly blank parchment came alive with inked illustrations and a title. Harry read it aloud. "Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present...the Marauders Map?"

"We owe them so much," Fred said, putting a hand over his heart. "Go on and open it."

Harry did as he was asked, revealing what looked like a map of Hogwarts. He noticed tiny footprints around the castle's diagram. "No, is that really..."

"Dumbledore," George said.

"In his office," Fred smiled.

"Pacing," George finished. "He does that a lot."

"So...this map shows...everyone?"

"Everyone," Fred nodded.

"Where they are," George added.

"And what they're doing,"

"Every minute,"

"Of every day!" They chorused together.

"Where'd you get it?" Harry asked as he watched the map in awe.

"Filch's office, first year," George said as if were obvious.

"Anyways, you need to get to Hogsmeade," Fred said with an almost businesslike tone.

"There are seven secret passageways to get there." George lectured. "We recommend..." he pointed to a specific spot on the map, "This one."

"Leads right through the Honeydukes' cellar!" Fred said happily. "But remember,"

"When you're done, give it a tap and say, 'Mischief managed',"

"Otherwise anyone can read it," they said together again. Harry idly wondered how they could even _do_ that.

* * *

><p>It turns out that the map was correct. Behind the statue of the hunchbacked one-eyed witch, was a secret passage that winded straight to the Honeydukes' cellar. Harry climbed from under a tile in the floor and looked around. The place was empty, for now. Harry needed to get moving.<p>

He threw his invisibility cloak over himself a second time and crept up the wooden stairs. he could definitely hear voices now, and the tinkling of a bell to accompany the sound of a constantly opening and shutting door. The shop was having good business today, then.

Harry jumped to the side and narrowly avoided colliding with a man coming down the stairs. He waited a moment to make sure he hadn't been heard, and dodged up the stairs and through the door at the top as silently as he could. His eyes adjusted to the light and he found himself behind the shopkeeper's counter. He ducked, crept sideways, and straightened himself again. He swept off the cloak and surveyed the scene.

He blended in perfectly since the place was so jammed with Hogwarts students. He maneuvered around them, studying the shop's wares with interest. The shelves were stocked with some of the most succulent looking sweets Harry had ever seen. Chocolates, toffee and nougat of every kind were stacked in neat rows. Another shelf was stuffed with a rainbow of colored taffies and such. There was a barrel near the front of the shop full of Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and countless packages of 'Special Effects' confections like Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and toad shaped peppermint creams that would hop around in one's stomach after consumption.

Harry pushed through the crowd of students and looked towards a sign in the farthest corner of the shop that read 'Unusual Tastes'. Ron, Hermione, Alfred and Matthew stood under it, examining the questionable options.

"Why would anyone want a blood flavored lollipop?" Matthew questioned as he examined the tray of them set before him.

"They're for vampires," Hermione explained as she sorted through the candies. "Now what do you think Harry would like?"

Ron picked up a small jar. "What about these?"

Alfred peered at the label. "Ugh, no. Cockroach Clusters sound like they shouldn't even _exist_."

Harry smiled as he crept up behind them. "I must agree with Alfred," he said.

Ron nearly dropped the jar and Matthew jumped back.

_"Harry!"_ squealed Hermione. "What-how-...how did you-"

"Wow!" Ron said with an impressed smile. "You learned to Apparate!"

"No I haven't," Harry responded. He lowered his voice and told his friends about the Marauder's Map.

"Nifty!" Alfred exclaimed when Harry had finished. "Imagine all the cool stuff you could do with it!"

"I don't see why Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron in an outrage. "I'm their _brother_!"

Matthew patted him on the shoulder comfortingly with a bemused expression.

"Harry isn't going to keep it though," Hermione said as if it were ludicrous. "He's going to hand it right over to McGonagall, aren't you Harry?"

"No, I'm not!" Harry responded.

"Are you mad?" Ron demanded as he goggled at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"

"Doing that would be a decided tactical fuck-up," Alfred commented studiously.

His brother slapped him in the arm. "Al_fred_. Watch your language."

Harry shook his head at the twins' antics and turned back to Hermione. "If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!"

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers _need_ to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," Harry assured quickly. "Out of the seven, Filch knows of four, one's collapsed, and one goes through the Whomping Willow. The one I came through-well-it's practically impossible to see the entrance so unless he knew it was there..." he hesitated.

"What if he _did_ know it was there?" Matthew asked quietly, voicing the very thing crossing Harry's mind. The five were quiet for a moment. How to answer that? Ron broke the silence by loudly clearing his throat. He pointed towards an official looking notice on the inside of the sweetshop's door. Alfred squinted slightly at the tiny writing and read aloud.

"By the order of the Ministry of Magic, customers are reminded that until further notice, Dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall...Merry Christmas." The American frowned and fell silent, and his brother had a similar expression.

Harry remembered that both had an especially bad reaction to the Dementors' presence. What was it Professor Lupin had said? _"The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that others don't have." _Harry wondered_ w_hat those two had in their past that was so bad...

Ron broke Harry out of his reverie. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with Dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live right over the shop!"

"Yes, but-but..." Hermione struggled for a moment. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be here. He hasn't got a signed form! He'll be in so much trouble if someone finds out! And it's not nightfall yet...what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

Alfred mimed shading his eyes as he peered suspiciously into the throng of students in the shop. "Hmmm..." He dropped his hands and shrugged. "Nope, don't see 'im."

Hermione gave Alfred a light glare. "That's not the _point_-"

"A certain amount of rule breaking is healthy," Matthew interrupted quietly. "It's Christmas, Harry deserves a break."

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. "I've finally corrupted you!" he said cheerfully. The Canadian rolled his eyes and brushed his sibling's hand away.

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked with a grin. He already knew the answer.

"Oh, of course not! But honestly, Harry-" she was interrupted again, but this time by Ron.

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" Ron asked, grabbing his arm and leading him over to another barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? Or the Acid Pops?" Harry smiled as Ron babbled happily. It was evident that his red headed friend has been wanting to take him here for a long time.

* * *

><p>After they paid for their sweets, they left Honeydukes to brave the blizzard outside. The village itself looked like something out of a postcard with it's thatched cottages and cozy looking shops covered in a layer of crisp, white snow. Holly wreaths were placed on doors and enchanted candles hung in the trees for Christmas.<p>

Harry barely suppressed a shiver. He hadn't come prepared for the weather like his friends. The Gryffindor boy envied Matthew's imperviousness to the cold. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind. He listened as Hermione, Ron, and Alfred shouted through their scarves about the town.

"That's the post office-"

"Zonko's is up there-"

"Let's go to the Shrieking Shack-"

"Tell you what," Ron finally said through chattering teeth. "Shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry agreed enthusiastically. The wind was fierce and his hands were freezing. So they crossed the road and in a matter of minutes were entering the tiny inn.

It was very crowded, warm, and smoky. The air hummed with the different conversations of a diverse group of clientele. From the group of wizards bundled up by the fireplace to the giant norse looking man sitting in the corner speaking with a stout little asian woman. A curvy woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red. As he made his way towards the bar, Harry, Hermione, Alfred, and Matthew made their way to a vacant table near the back of the room placed between a window and an eclectically decorated Christmas tree that stood near the fireplace. Ron joined them but five minutes later, juggling five tankards of foaming hot butterbeer.

"Merry Christmas!" he said happily, raising his tankard. Everyone met his tankard with a _clink_ and a smile. Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and warmed his insides like they were lined with woolen blankets.

Alfred downed his drink in one go and slammed it back onto the table. "Whew! That's some good stuff right there!"

Ron stared at the American. "Did you really just drink that whole thing in less than five seconds?"

Alfred leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his stomach. "Yep, it takes the feeling from warm to scalding and I looove it."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at his brother and smiled from behind his tankard. He sipped it and placed it politely on the space in front of him. Hermione followed his example. Harry was about to take another drink when he felt a sudden breeze ruffle his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Harry looked over the rim of his tankard and choked.

Professors McGonagall and Kirkland had just entered the pub in a flurry of snowflakes, followed by Hagrid, who was in a deep conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and pinstriped cloak-Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

Harry quickly found himself forced under the table by Alfred, splashing his butterbeer all over him. Dripping with the hot drink and crouching out of sight, Harry clutched his empty tankard and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move towards the bar, pause, then turn and walk right towards him.

Above him, Hermione whispered, _"Mobiliarbus!" _The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump and slight clatter right in front of their table, concealing them from the adults' line of sight.

Harry peered through the dense lower branches. Four sets of chair legs moved back from the table right beside theirs. Harry could hear grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice.

"A small gillywater-"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall.

"Four pints of mulled mead-"

"Ta, Rosmerta," Hagrid said warmly.

"A firewhisky-"

"Here," Kirkland sounded out.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us..."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Harry watched the glittering heels march away. While they were gone, Fudge could be heard again. "En-ah, Kirkland. Is it wise for you to drink right now? I know that you're rather..."

"I'm not so much of a lightweight that I can't handle _one_," Kirkland said irritatedly. Harry could practically see the light scowl on the blond man's face. "Besides, it's the _muggle_ drinks that really get me. They do something different with the alcohol I think."

"I did hear that you'd been among the muggles for a while now," Fudge responded. "It's good to see you're returned. For good this time, I hope?"

A chair creaked as Kirkland shifted in his seat "Well, I _do_ intend to spend more time here, certainly. But I still have unavoidable obligations in the muggle world, Minister. Given my...position."

The Minister coughed. "Yes, I can understand that. Do you intend to check with the Ministry officially this time? Or do we have to chase you around again?"

McGonagall interrupted the exchange as she leaned slightly forward in her seat. "You two know each other?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. I was quite surprised to hear that Kirkland had returned as a _teacher_ of all things. Especially given his temper."

"I do _not_ have a temper," Kirkland snapped. "Antonio was just being a greasy little-"

"There you are Rosmerta!" Hagrid said jovially as the glittering heels returned. He sounded almost grateful for the distraction.

Harry cursed himself for his foolishness as his legs ached from holding their awkward position. Why hadn't he realized that this was the last weekend of the term for the teachers as well? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes to get back to the school tonight...Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice.

Harry saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist around as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, "What else m'dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," Rosmerta admitted.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" Professor McGonagall asked exasperatedly.

"Do you think Black's still around, Minister? In the area, I mean," whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"I'm sure of it," Fudge replied shortly.

"The Dementor's have searched the whole village twice, already," Rosmerta said with a slight edge to her voice. "It's bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," Fudge said uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution, unfortunately...I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore-he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"Ishould think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we to teach with those floating horrors around?"

"Indeed," said Professor Kirkland. "You _do_ know that my boys are here as well, Minister. I _especially_ do not want those things around."

"All the same," demurred Fudge, "They are here to protect you all from something much worse...We all know what Black is capable of..."

"I don't want to keep relieving my past, Minister..." said Kirkland quietly.

"I know, Kirkland. I know," the official returned, almost sorrowfully.

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought...I mean, I remember him as a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me what he'd become, I'd say you'd had too much mead."

"You don't even know the wort of it," Fudge said gruffly.

"What could be worse than murdering all those poor people?" Madam Rosmerta asked with morbid curiosity.

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," Rosmerta responded with a small laugh. "They were always together. I had them here all the time-oh, how they would make me laugh. Him and James Potter were quite the double act, they were!"

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Matthew kicked him.

"Indeed," McGonagall nodded. "Black and Potter were the ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course-I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers-"

"I dunno," Chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run for their money."

"Yes, yes," Fudge said impatiently. "Potter trusted Black above all others. Black was the best man at his and Lily's wedding. Potter even named the scoundrel as Harry's godfather! Harry has no idea, of course. The very idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

McGonagall nodded, agreeing with Fudge's account. "You see, not many people are aware that Lily and James Potter knew they were marked for death by You-Know-Who. But Black _did_. So when they went into hiding, Black led the Dark Lord straight to them!"

"Not only that, but Black actually helped by _killing_ one of the Potters' friends, Peter Pettigrew!"

"The little lump of a boy, always trailing after the two while they were in school?" Rosmerta asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes," Fudge picked up again after taking a long drink from his glass. "Peter tried to warn the Potters, but Black headed him off. He didn't just kill him, he _destroyed_ him! A finger! All that was left-a finger!"

"He may not have laid a hand on the Potters," McGonagall said solemnly. "But he's the reason they're dead!"

"And I comforted him..." Hagrid rumbled angrily. "He came to me, a complete mess. I didn't know that he..." he broke off and slammed his giant fists onto the table. "THAT MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" the half-giant roared.

"Hagrid, ol' boy, _please_ keep your voice down!" Professor Kirkland said.

"And now he's back," Fudge said quietly. "To find Harry, and finish what he started."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down heir glass.

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," said Professor McGonagall.

One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry took the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar. The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had left the building.

"Harry?"

His friends' faces appeared under the table. No one spoke.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter is completed. And this time something relevant to the plot happened! Yaay!<strong>

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews guys. I appreciate every single one!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	24. Chapter 24

Harry wasn't sure how he got back to the castle. He remembered standing up, saying he needed to leave...and then tripping over himself. Alfred's voice rang out in his memory.

_"You're in no condition...the passage is in the Honeydukes' cellar, right?"_

Harry sat up in his bed and wracked his brain. What happened next?...Oh, yes.

_"Do you need help?"_ Ron's voice echoed.

_"Nah...Go with Mattie."_

Harry remembered the odd sensation of being carried, his invisibility cloak withdrawn from his pocket and draped over them. Then rhythmic, echoing footsteps. Then nothing.

He groaned quietly and clutched his head, still shocked over what he had heard. The worst part was that no one bothered to _tell_ him. As if he couldn't handle the knowledge that his parents were dead because of their turncoat best friend!

His sigh seemed to echo throughout the empty dormitory. Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and bent over, searching through his bedside table. A moment of shuffling through his books and he found what he was looking for.

A leather-bound photo album Hagrid had gifted him two years ago. Every page had wizard pictures of his mother and father. He flipped through it, resting on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair that Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. His father was arm in arm with his mother, her face alight with happiness. And there...

Harry scowled darkly at the page. The best man, Sirius Black. Harry had never given him a second glance before. What a stark contrast between this and his wanted poster. Here, his face was handsome and full of laughter, rather than sunken and waxy.

Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture was taken? Was he _already_ planning the deaths of the two people next to him? The people who_ trusted_ him? Did he realize that he'd be facing twelve years in Azkaban that would render him nearly unrecognizable?

Harry shut the book with a snap and shoved it away. He laid down down on his side and brooded. Dementors don't affect this man. What kind of world was it, where Harry, who had done _nothing wrong_, was the one to hear his mother's screams when one gets to close?

The dormitory door opened.

"Harry?" said Matthew's voice uncertainly.

Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep. The door closed and soft footsteps approached Harry's bed. A creak signified Matthew sitting on the bed next to his. All was silent for a moment. "I know you're awake," Matthew finally stated.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He should've known it would be futile. Almost _nothing_ got past the Canadian. "Don't you have classes?"

"Nice try," Matthew chuckled drily. "It's the first day of holidays, remember?"

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at his crimson bed hangings. "There's just no getting rid of you then, I guess."

The blond boy was silent. Harry sighed again. "Don't try to reassure me about anything. You heard everything, same as me; you know it's pointless."

Matthew remained silent for a moment longer as he thought. "...What does it change?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Matthew said. "Your parents are still dead. There's no getting around that. Is knowing that Sirius Black, a man you only learned about this year, was involved going to fix that?"

Harry turned his head and studied the Canadian's intense violet eyes. "I...suppose you have a point." He clasped his hands over his chest. "They could've at least _told_ me though."

"To be honest, I can see why they didn't," Matthew answered with a mirthless chuckle. "Just look at yourself, wallowing in your own pity and yesterday's clothes!"

Harry sat up in his bed, putting a hand on his knee. "You sound a lot like your brother right now."

"No," the Canadian said with a small smile. "In this case, he'd be extremely blunt and tell you to get over it and say it's no big deal. Believe it or not, I'm being _nice_ about it."

Harry searched the blond for any hint of sarcasm or fakery. But he found none. Matthew was being one hundred percent earnest.

It was Harry's turn to chuckle as he looked around the empty dorm. "...What time is it?"

"Nearly lunchtime," Matthew answered, his smile growing wider. "But shower first, because I'm sorry to say that you stink."

The Gryffindor boy lurched to his feet and stepped around to his trunk. He dug out a change of clothes and toiletries and made his way to the shower. As he turned the cleansing water to scalding he came to a new resolution.

He wasn't going to feel bad for himself anymore. He was going to _do_ something about it. Sirius Black must not remain.

* * *

><p>He trudged down to the common room feeling a bit more human than he had earlier. The place was empty save for the twins, Ron, and Hermione. What at first appeared to be a furry ginger rug in front of the fire turned out to be Crookshanks, spread out on the ground and basking in it's warmth. Snow was still falling outside, so he followed the cat's example and slumped into a chair by the fire.<p>

"You don't look so well," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

Harry squirmed under her scrutiny. "I'm fine."

"Just listen," the girl insisted. She and Ron exchanged a significant look. "You're probably rather upset about erm...yesterday. But..." she broke off and sagged her shoulders slightly.

"Don't do anything stupid, mate," Ron finished. "Don't go looking for him. Don't die for something this stupid."

Harry grimaced as he listened to the obviously rehearsed conversation. Didn't they understand?

"Did you know that I get to witness my mother's murder every time a Dementor gets too close?"Harry asked.

The looks of surprise on everyone's faces said that no, they did not. Harry continued, his voice not wavering. "Even if Black's caught, and sent back to Azkaban...it's not a punishment for him. Not really. They don't affect him for some reason."

"So what?" Ron demanded tensely. "You want to-to _kill_ Black?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said in a quick, somewhat panicky manner. "Harry wouldn't do that. Right, Harry?"

The Gryffindor boy didn't know how to respond. All he knew was that he couldn't do nothing. He glanced towards Matthew, who maintained a neutral expression. Harry noticed Alfred being unusually quiet, his blue eyes had that...far away look in them again.

"What do you think, Alfred?" Harry called, snapping the American out of his thoughts.

Solemn cerulean eyes rested on him. "To kill a man...they ain't kiddin' when they say it's something that will follow you for the rest of your life. It doesn't matter wether you have a good reason or not; it permanently stains your very soul. You'll still have nightmares...You'll still have guilt. Do what you must, but don't choose lightly." He fell silent again, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Harry's train of thought was completely derailed. He stared at his mysterious friend. Where the hell did _that_ come from?

Hermione cleared her throat and spoke again, hesitatingly. "Black did a terrible-_terrible_ thing but...d-don't put yourself in danger. It's what Black wants and your parents...your parents wouldn't want you hurt. They'd never want you to go looking for Black!"

Harry focused on the cheery fire roaring in the fireplace. He wasn't sure _what_ to think anymore really. Matthew had a point in saying that the Professors had meant well by keeping this from him. Probably for this reason, too. Alfred also had a point. Was he really willing to go as far as..._killing_ Sirius Black? He didn't know.

Ron decided to change the subject before it could go any further. "Erm...how about we go to Hagrid's? We haven't been to see him in a while."

"No!" Hermione said quickly. "Harry isn't supposed to leave the castle, Ron-"

"Yeah!" Alfred exclaimed cheerfully. "Let's go do stuff!"

Everyone save for Matthew gave Alfred a strange look. He'd just gone from pensive and thoughtful back to his default of happy and fun-loving.

"Is your brother bi-polar, or something?" Ron asked Matthew as they gathered their cloaks for the trip to Hagrid's.

Matthew shrugged as he picked up his scarf. "No, he's just that way." He paused and shot the redhead a wry smile. "I'd have thought you'd be accustomed to it by now."

Hermione covered her small giggle with a cough while Harry shook his head. Those two...he didn't know about them sometimes.

* * *

><p>The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted. Each tree was smattered with silver, and Hagrid's cabin looked like an iced cake.<p>

Ron knocked, but there was no answer.

"He's not out, is he?" Hermione asked as she shivered under her cloak.

Matthew put his ear to the door. "There's a weird noise," he said. "Like...a dog maybe?"

Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

"Think we should get someone?" Ron asked nervously.

"No worries," Alfred said with a confident smile. "The hero will save the day!" He marched up to the door and banged on it with his fist. The poor piece of wood seemed to barely hang on with each impact as Alfred called through the door. "Yo, Hagrid! Ya in there, dude?"

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood before them with red and swollen eyes. Tears splashed down the front of his leather vest.

"Yeh've heard?" he bellowed. With a great sob he flung himself onto Alfred's neck.

Harry marveled at the scene before him. Hagrid was at least twice the size of a normal man, and yet Alfred barely even rocked backwards as he patted the half-giant's back soothingly. "Come now," the American said softly. "Don't cry-no, don't you dare cry." He glanced towards his friends and pointed his chin subtly towards the cabin's interior.

Ron and Matthew caught the hint. They each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, still sobbing uncontrollably. His face was glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

"Hagrid, what_ is_ the matter?" Hermione asked, aghast.

Harry spotted an official looking letter lying open on the table. "What's this, Hagrid?" he inquired.

Hagrid's sobs redoubled. Harry picked the letter up and read aloud:

"Dear Mr. Hagrid,  
>Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident."<p>

"Well, that's okay then, Hagrid!" said Ron clapping him on the shoulder. Much to his confusion though, Hagrid continued to sob. The big man waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.

"However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.

Yours in fellowship..."  
>The rest of the page was taken by a list of school governors.<p>

"Oh..." Ron said. He wasn't sure what to say.

"But you said Buckbeak isn't a bad hippogriff," Matthew said reassuringly. "I think he'll get off-"

"Yeh don' know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o' Dangerous Creatures!" Hagrid choked out. "They got it in fer interestin' creatures!"

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid's cabin made all five students whip around. None other than Buckbeak himself was lying in the corner, chomping on something that oozed blood all over the floor.

"I couldn' leave him tied up out there in the snow!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Imagine...all on his own...on Christmas!" His sobbing renewed even stronger than before.

The Gryffindors looked at one another. What Hagrid calls 'interesting creatures' would more be along the lines of 'terrifying monsters' to other people. On the other hand, there didn't seem to be any harm in Buckbeak.

This was further proved when Alfred crossed the small cabin and knelt down next to the majestic hybrid creature. Buckbeak crooned softly and nudged his head against Alfred's hand. Alfred beamed at him and began running his hands over the hippogriff's soft feather down. "Say..." the blond boy said. "Where did you get Buckbeak anyway?"

"Hm?" Hagrid paused in his mourning. "Well, you of all people should know! Hippogriffs are most common in America. Buckbeak's from Pennsylvania!"

"Oh?" the American said idly as he continued to stroke the feathers. he was silent for a moment before he shot to his feet. "Wait a minute!"

"What?" his friends asked simultaneously.

"We can save Buckbeak!" Alfred said excitedly. He began to pace the small space. "Arthur's high up-he can get the charges on Buckbeak dropped! In fact, I've seen him do stuff like that before...and since Buckbeak's from my-er-the United States, we'll just have him go home and everyone'll be happy!"

"Well..." Hagrid started, still unsure. "It's a big place...he'll be all alone..."

"I'll take care of him then," Alfred said resolutely. "You can even visit if you'd like. Plus there'll be more of his own kind around."

Hagrid was silent as he pondered this. Harry shook his shoulder a bit. "It'll be better than him dying, Hagrid. He'll be happy with Alfred, and you can visit anytime, he said so himself!"

Hagrid was silent for a moment more as he weighed his options. After a few minutes of deliberation, he nodded slowly. "Alright...but I maintain full visiting rights."

"Of course!" Alfred said enthusiastically.

* * *

><p>Harry left Hagrid's Hut feeling significantly lighter. He had by no means forgotten about Sirius Black. But he was happy to hear that Buckbeak would be alright. Alfred <em>would<em> take good care of him. Harry hadn't missed the hippogriff's oddly passive behavior around the American. Nor had he missed the American's oddly detached and contented behavior around the hippogriff. You just can't _fake_ that.

* * *

><p>The castle was somehow magnificently decorated for Christmas by the next day, Christmas Eve. Harry was legitimately curious as to how anyone could move twelve giant Christmas trees into the great Hall in one night without anyone noticing. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, and mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor. The sent of delicious cooking had pervaded the corridors and by the end of the day, even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.<p>

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Alfred and Ron taking turns abusing him with their pillows.

"Oy!" Ron practically yelled in Harry's ear. "Presents!"

If Ron woke him up, Alfred made sure he wasn't tired. "Imma throw you off the mattress on the count of three~!"

Harry scrambled from beneath his blankets and jumped off the bed, because Alfred probably wasn't kidding. He felt around his bedside table in the semi-darkness and found his glasses. As he placed them on the bridge of his nose, Harry happened to glance about two beds away from him. Matthew was still asleep, as was his pet bear. He was sure to point this out to Alfred.

Al smiled deviously as he stealthily approached Matthew's sleeping form. He poked Matthew, and waited. Getting no response, he sucked in a deep breath and burst into song.

"IIIII CAN'T GET 'EM UP,

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP,

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP THIS MOOOORNING;

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP

I CAN'T GET 'EM UP I CAN'T GET 'EM UP AT AAALL!"

Matthew stirred long enough to put a pillow over his ears. "Ugh, go _away_ Alfred."

Harry and Ron laughed as Alfred's smile somehow grew even wider.

"THE CORPORAL'S WORSE THAN THE PRIVATES,

THE SERGEANT'S WORSE THAN THE CORPORALS,

LIEUTENANT'S WORSE THAN THE SEEERGEANTS,

AND THE CAPTAIN'S WORST OF AAALL!"

The Canadian groaned again when the pillow proved insufficient as a noise canceler. His polar bear looked up at Alfred through one open eye with what something akin to irritation. Matthew groggily rose from his bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," Ron chuckled. The blond gave the redhead a light glare as he rose from his bed. He swiped his things from his trunk and trudged off into the bathroom.

"What's with him?" Harry asked after the bathroom door shut.

"He haates that song," Alfred responded with a grin. "Especially when _I_ sing it, though I'm not sure why."

Matthew came back out of the bathroom fully dressed. "Those aren't even the correct _lyrics_!" he said exasperatedly. "Don't sing the Revielle if you can't sing it right."

"I have yet to meet someone who _hasn't_ changed the words in some way." Alfred retorted. He brought his hands together. "Anywho," he inclined his head towards the heap of parcels at the foot of each person's bed that hadn't been there before. "Presents, anyone?"

The four boys set to opening their presents. "Mattie, check out what Ge-ah, Lugwig sent!" He held up a small rectangle about five inches across that seemed to be made of polished silver.

Matthew looked up and studied the object for a moment. "Wow...I don't know much about them, honestly. But that one looks like a really nice one. Is there a card?"

Alfred nodded and read it aloud.

"Dear Alfred, this is for what you sent me through the post last week. You have my thanks; I will enjoy it immensely. PS: I've also forwarded your backlog of paperwork to Arthur. Sincerely, Ludwig."

"Paperwork?" Alfred frowned. "Guess I'll be having some late nights." His attention returned to the object as he brought it up to the light. "The craftsmanship on this is beautiful. _And_ it's chromatic!"

Matthew could be heard to elicit a soft exclamation as he looked into one of his presents. "Oh, my..." he withdrew what looked to be a ceramic box, beautifully painted with maple leaves. He ripped open the accompanying card and read aloud.

"Birdie, wondering you've been all year. Feliciano was nice enough to paint this it for me. Use the contents wisely. Merry Christmas, Sir Gilbert of everything awesome that exists."

Matthew opened the lid and looked inside. He gave a small smile and closed it again.

Ron looked into one of his presents with chagrin. "A maroon sweater from Mum...again." He turned towards Harry. "See if you got one too."

Harry did indeed get one. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle.

"Duuuuude Kiku you are awesooome!" Alfred said enthusiastically. He held up a metallic blue square shaped thing that Harry recognized as a portable gaming system. "He says that he and Tony worked together on it and want me to test it!"

Matthew opened a bag and peeked into it discreetly. His face brightened as he turned to his brother. "Tino sends his regards to both of us with some 'bottled muggle magic'," he said cryptically.

Alfred seemed to understand immediately. "Cool beans, I've been itchin' for it since September."

Ron observed the tag on one of Alfred's discarded wrappings. "Your middle name is Franklin?"

Alfred looked at the tag with interest. "Now _that's_ a good idea..." he mumbled more to himself.

Harry noticed a long, thin package lying at the bottom of his pile.

"What's that?" Ron asked curiously, looking over a freshly unwrapped pair of Maroon socks in his hand.

"I don't know," Harry responded. He ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. Alfred raised an eyebrow as he joined them and Matthew observed discreetly over his brother's shoulder.

"I don't believe it," Ron said hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt, identical to the broom Harry had seen in his dreams since he had glimpsed it in Diagon Alley. It's handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating in his hands, so he let it go. It hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, down to the perfectly smooth, streamlines birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it?" Alfred asked, not particularly awe struck.

"Look to see if there's a card," Matthew suggested.

Ron eagerly ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings. "Nothing!" Ron said after a moment. "Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"

"I'm willing to bet it wasn't the Dursleys," Harry said, feeling stunned.

"Dumbledore, maybe? He strikes me as someone who'd do that. Didn't you say he the was the one to send you the Invisibility Cloak?

"That was my Dad's, though," Harry responded. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this-"

"That's why he wouldn't say ir was from him!" Ron reasoned. "In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism."

"It kind of _would_ be-" Matthew started quietly. He was cut off when Ron gave a great whoop of laughter.

"Oh, _Malfoy_! Wait till he sees you on this!" Ron exclaimed. "He'll be sick as a pig! This is an _international_ standard broom, this is!"

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry's bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy's reaction.

"Maybe it was Lupin," Alfred suggested thoughtfully. "He was gone when your other broom got destroyed. He might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley to get this for you-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said. "First of all, Lupin can barely afford his own robes. Secondly, how could he have been away? He was ill when I was playing the match."

'Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," Alfred responded confusedly. "I cleaned out bedpans that day, remember?"

Harry frowned at the American. "Even if he _was_ out, he still wouldn't afford this."

The door suddenly opened to reveal Hermione in her dressing gown, carrying a rather glum looking Crookshanks. "What're you two laughing about?" she asked curiously.

"Don't bring him in here!" Ron cried, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket.

Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped her cat onto Matthew's bed next to Kumajiro and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt.

"_Harry_," she said in a hushed voice. "Who sent you _that_?"

Harry shrugged as he continued to caress his broom. "No idea...There was no card."

Hermione did not appear excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell and she bit her lip worriedly.

"What?" Alfred asked at her expression.

"Well..." She paused, as if not quite sure what to say. "This broom must have been really expensive," she said slowly. "Isn't it a bit odd that someone would sink that much into a broom and not even tell Harry that they'd sent it?"

Ron waved off her concerns. "Oh, who cares?" He turned towards Harry excitedly. "Can I have a go on it? Can I?"

"No one ride that broom!" Matthew exclaimed suddenly.

Everyone's heads snapped to stare at the usually shy Canadian. "Why not?" Ron demanded. "What else is he to do with it-sweep the floor?"

Matthew shook his head violently. "No, no. I think I know where Hermione's going with this...what if-" he was cut off when Crookshanks practically jumped over him and right at Ron's chest.

The orange cat's claws ripped his pajamas as Scabbers attempted a wild escape over Ron's shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it into Alfred's knees and making the American stumble over it a bit.

"GET THAT CAT OUT OF HERE!" Ron howled furiously as his toe made contact with the heavy trunk.

On top of everything, Kumajiro apparently decided it would be a perfect time to join the fun. He leapt off the bed and pounced at Scabbers, who was skittering across the floor and trying to get away from the commotion and the cat. The rat dodged and tried to go the other direction, only to be faced by Crookshanks, who was hissing and spitting in a rage. Kumajiro growled and swiped a paw at the rat. The rat jigged left and hissed, baring yellow, jagged teeth.

Ron snatched his pet off the ground and shooed the polar bear away. "You go away!" he spat angrily.

The bear looked up at him impassively for a moment, before huffing and trudging off to his previous spot on Matthew's bed. Hermione scooped up Crookshanks and strode out of the room, scolding it.

Matthew sat down next to his bear and stroked it's white fur. "What was that all about?" he asked almost to quietly to be heard.

The bear's response was mostly covered by a groan of pain from Ron, who was bemoaning the state of his toe's nerve endings. "It...strange...different..." was all Harry caught.

Ron clutched Scabbers close to his chest, giving Harry an opportunity to study it closer. He was unpleasantly surprised to see that the rat had lost and unhealthy amount of weight, and patches of grey fur seemed to have fallen off. "He's not looking to good, is he?" Harry observed.

"It's the stress!" Ron insisted. "He'd be fine if that stupid furball Hermione calls a pet would just leave him alone!"

Harry nodded vaguely, afraid to voice his suspicions. He remembered hearing somewhere that rats only lived about three years. He couldn't help feeling that Scabbers was quickly approaching the end of his life. And despite Ron's frequent complaints that Scabbers was useless and boring, he was sure Ron would be absolutely miserable in the event of his death.

* * *

><p>Christmas spirit was definitely rather sparse in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione was furious that Ron had tired to kick Crookshanks. Ron was angry at both her and Matthew for their pets trying to eat Scabbers. Hermione and Ron were giving each other the cold shoulder.<p>

Ron wasn't talking to Matthew either, but the Canadian didn't seem terribly affected by it. In fact, Alfred looked like the one who was the most irritated at Ron's behavior. It was always either all or nothing with those two. An insult to one brother was an insult to both. So, the twins weren't talking to Ron or Hermione, and Hermione wasn't talking to Ron.

Harry felt stuck in the middle. He gave up on trying to get them to talk to each other and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down into the common room with him. This seemed to annoy Hermione, who kept shooting dark looks at the thing as though it too was angry at her cat.

The twins left after the tension became too much. This reminded the three who remained that they were brothers _long_ before they were friends here.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter has been posted here, to balance out the two I put for the other one. Balances out, doesn't it?<strong>

**Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess what Alfred got. It's based on a headcannon of mine. :P**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following! It's awesome like Prussia.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	25. Chapter 25

Lunchtime came, so the trio went down to the Great Hall. The House tables had been moved against the walls, leaving room for a significantly smaller table, set for fifteen, in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, Kirkland, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had traded his usual brown coat for a rather moldy looking tailcoat. Five other students were already there. Two extremely nervous looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year, along with Alfred and Matthew.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore said cheerily as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. "There are so few of us, so I thought it would be rather foolish to use the House tables." The trio sat down together at one end.

The twins were actually sitting closest to Professor Kirkland, who didn't seem to mind. Although he did take the time to correct Alfred's grammar, much to the American's chagrin.

"Dude, could you pass the cookies?" Alfred asked.

Kirkland looked down his nose disapprovingly at the boy. "They're called _biscuits_."

"Biscuits aren't even the same thing!" Alfred shot back angrily.

"God, you _always_ do this. Like for the word 'trolley'. A trolley is _not_ a tram!"

"A trolley isn't a shopping cart either, weirdo," the American retorted.

"'Shopping cart' shouldn't even _exist_ in English!" the professor said obstinately. "And for that matter, it's _my_ language! En-gl-ish from En-gl-and!"

"I'm speaking _American_ English. From Am-er-i-ca!" Alfred ground out. "Besides, no matter what you say, it's not a pure language. I don't hear you going 'thou' or 'doth' anymore now, do I?"

"My English still makes more sense than yours!" Kirkland yelled. Their argument had raised in volume to where the whole table couldn't help but hear it.

"Riiiight. Remember the cab driver incident?" the Gryffindor boy smirked at Kirkland's expression. "Yeah, you do! What was it you said? _'Gawdon Bennet! That's not right i'was practically around da corner! Thee must be overchargin' me!'_ What the hell is a 'Gawdon Bennet!?'"

"Well you're one to talk! I caught you in Texas saying ridiculous things like, _'Ya'll got the brit fixin' tuh have a conniption fit if ya don' stop. I know yer all big hat, no cattle anyway.'" _Kirkland was sure to drag out his vowels mockingly and make it as goofy as possible. He returned to his regular accent. "There is _so_ much wrong with that sentence I don't even know where to begin! So you can just belt up about that, you yankee-redneck!"

"Shut up! A yankee is not a redneck! They are _completely_ different."

"All the same to me!"

The argument got increasingly ridiculous and nonsensical. Dumbledore was watching with an incredible amount of amusement, which would explain why he hadn't stopped it yet. Flitwick and Sprout were doing their best to ignore it, and Snape just looked on disapprovingly. Mcgonagall reached over smacked them both upside the head, effectively shutting them up.

"I don't know care how you conduct yourselves at home," the stern professor scolded. "But you will both keep civil tongues in your head while you're here!" She huffed and straightened her robes, returning to her meal.

The meal went uninterrupted for the next few minutes. Alfred jumped as he reacted to something under the table. He shot Professor Kirkland a covert dirty look. A few minutes later, the green eyed teacher yelped, his elbow hitting the edge of the table and making it shake. Matthew leaned over and said something to his brother, who gave a small sheepish smile in response.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, earning the undivided attention of the entire table. He picked up a noisemaker off the table. "Crackers!" he said almost childishly, offering the large silver end to Snape. The Potions Master sighed and reluctantly pulled it. The thing released it's contents with a sound akin to a gunshot. Much to Snape's dismay, the contents of this particular one happened to be a pointy hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Harry and Ron exchanged grins, remembering the boggart. Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the ridiculous hat towards Dumbledore, who swapped it for his own wizard's hat at once. "Dig in!" he exclaimed, beaming all around.

Harry was helping himself to roasted potatoes, when the Great Hall's doors opened again. Professor Trelawney walked in, clad in a green sequined dress to honor the occasion.

"Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore said, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest most faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. I at once hastened from my tower, I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly," Dumbledore said amiably, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair-"

He literally drew a chair in midair with his wand, which resolved for a few seconds before falling with a slight clatter between Kirkland and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney did not sit down immediately. Her enormous eyes rested on Kirkland, Alfred, and Matthew in turn.

"Such old souls...you have all seen so much..." she finally sat down, her eyes never moving from Professor Kirkland, who looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I feel most drawn to you though...tea and rain...ocean water..."

Hermione, who was the last to give Trelawney of all people the benefit of the doubt _ever_, was leaning forward with interest. And even Dumbledore looked like he was paying attention as he cut his ham into pieces.

Trelawney tore her eyes away from Kirkland and peered closely Alfred and Matthew. "...wheat fields and maple trees...interesting."

Matthew coughed and focused on his plate, while Alfred settled for looking at her like one would a rabid dog.

"Would you _please_ pass the gravy?" McGonagall finally asked impatiently. She was having none of this.

"Hm?" Trelawney seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in. Her voice was significantly less distant as she said, "Yes, of course." She did as McGonagall asked. Doing this gave her the opportunity to look around the table. "Where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid that the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore said. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?" McGonagall said with her eyebrows raised.

"Certainly, Minerva," Trelawney said a bit coldly. "One does not parade the fact that they are All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"Explains a lot," Ron muttered. Harry smothered a snicker in his napkin.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him-"

"Imagine that," Professor McGonagall said drily.

"I doubt," Professor Dumbledore interjected cheerfully, putting an end to the conversation before it could go any farther. "that Professor Lupin is is any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Snape. Harry thought he sounded rather preoccupied.

"Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first year boy turned a furious shade of red at being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with shaking hands.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally to the end of the meal, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their party hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table to leave.

"Coming?" Harry asked, seeing that Hermione hadn't rose from the table.

"No," Hermione muttered. "I need a quick word with McGonagall and Trelawney."

"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," yawned Ron as they made their way into the entrance hall, which was completely empty save for them.

"With Trelawney?" Harry scoffed. "As if."

* * *

><p>Later, everyone except Hermione had reunited in common room. Matthew surprised them by sitting right near them. Ron initiated a conversation, about Harry's new Firebolt, of course. Apparently he's gotten over his little grudge against Matthew about Kumajiro. Matthew acted as if nothing had happened that morning, and Alfred started talking to them again as a result, seeing that his brother was okay with it.<p>

Harry smiled to himself as he admired his broomstick. Looks like things had returned to normal with his friends. His hopeful thoughts were interrupted by the portrait hole swinging open. None other than Professor McGonagall swept in, followed by Hermione, who walked around them, sat down, and picked up the nearest book, hiding her face with it.

"So that's it, is it?" Professor McGonagall said, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside down. Alfred and Matthew watched the scene with twin expressions of impassiveness. It was a bit disconcerting, actually.

"May I?" said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt away fro them. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," Harry said blankly.

"I see..." she studied it for a moment more. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"W-what?" Harry said, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," Professor McGonagall answered almost apologetically. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down-"

"Strip it _down_?" Ron repeated, as though the Professor were completely mad.

"You will have it back in a few weeks time, when we are sure it hasn't been tampered with," McGonagall said.

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Harry insisted, his voice shaking slightly. "Honestly Professor-"

"You can't be sure of that until you've flown it," McGonagall said kindly. "And since that's out of the question, this is how it must be. I shall keep you informed." With that, she turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole.

Harry stood, staring after her, completely devastated. The _best_ and most meaningful Christmas gift he'd ever gotten...taken away.

Ron rounded on Hermione angrily. _"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"_

Hermione's face was still red as she lowered the book and stood up defiantly. "Because-and McGonagall agrees with me-that broom was probably sent by _Sirius Black_!" She turned and marched up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Hermione crashed onto her bed in the girls' dormitory, absolutely refusing to cry. Couldn't they look past their Quidditch obsession for a moment and <em>see<em>? God, how could anyone be so bloody thick? Now Harry and Ron hate her because she was trying to keep Harry from getting killed!

Although...Matthew seemed to be of similar opinion, even if he hadn't said anything. At least _he_ wasn't being so immature about it...

Come to think of it, he's never had a single moment of boyish immaturity, despite his age. When they talked...it was like she was talking to a _professor_ almost. She thought back to what she had spoken to Trelawney about.

_Hermione steeled herself for what she felt was _probably_ a waste of time. But she had her suspicions...as did Trelawney, apparently. "Professor?"_

_The cooky woman looked down at the Gryffindor girl in minor surprise. She knew of Hermione's opinion of her. "Yes, dear?"_

_Hermione looked around to be sure no one would hear. "I'm investigating Professor Kirkland. I was hoping you had some idea about...him."_

_Trelawney cocked her head, much like a small bird would. "You and the entire staff apparently."_

_"Oh?" Hermione frowned. "Is he an object of suspicion among the faculty?"_

_"He just...came out of nowhere. He claims to have been to Hogwarts, but no one remembers him." Her voice gained a misty and detached quality. "And there's a certain..._something_ about him..."_

_Hermione resisted the urge to snap her fingers. She did not come here for a prophecy! Instead she tried to advance the conversation further. "Is there anything ah..._material_ you can give me? Something I can work with?"_

_Trelawney peered at Hermione through her owlish glasses. "Poor dear...you just have no future in Divinations...that much I can see. But...you work well with books, I understand..."_

_Hermione leaned forward slightly in anticipation._

_"Something I read once...and an old legend I've heard...look for 'Are They Real: Disputed Beings And Their Possible Whereabouts'. I sense that it is still in the Library."_

_Hermione nodded, surprised at getting an actual _clue_ from the spacey teacher. "Thank you, Professor."_

Hermione wondered what she would find in that book, and what it could possibly have to do with anything. She glanced at the small clock on her bedside table. It wasn't curfew yet...she had time to make a trip to the Library.

Of course, she could _make_ time if she needed to.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter! And this one was kinda hard to write...I wasn't sure about how to go about the Christmas Dinner bit...but I managed.<strong>

**Thank you all for reviewing, following, and favoriting! It's greatly appreciated.**

**Later dudes ^J^**


	26. Chapter 26

"Harry, are you _sure_ you're ready to do this?" Professor Lupin asked. "This is _highly_ advanced magic-well beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Level."

Harry nodded eagerly. He _needed_ this.

Lupin began to pace, much like he would in a classroom during a lecture. "Alright then. Have you ever heard of the 'Patronus Charm'?"

Harry shook his head.

"No? Well, a Patronus is a kind of force that a wizard can summon as a kind of shield. The Dementor tries to feed on it, but is repelled by...well...you'll see." He sat down on top of a heavily armored chest. "In order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. The happiest one you can possibly remember, because _happy_ memories are the most _powerful_. Can you do this?"

Harry closed his eyes. What was his happiest memory?

"Do you have it?" Lupin asked.

Harry, with his eyes still closed, nodded.

"Allow it to fill you up," the professor said. "And then speak the incantation _'Expecto Patronum'_."

"Expecto Patronum," Harry echoed, committing it to memory. "Expecto Patronum...Expecto Patronum..."

"Very good," Lupin praised. "Now lets try it, shall we? Wand at the ready." He got up from the heavy trunk and stepped around it so that he was right behind it.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it resolutely at the container. The professor undid a few latches, causing a chain reaction of clicks and rasping as the box's multiple mechanisms undid themselves. Harry waited, waiting for Lupin to open the box.

Lupin threw the lid open, and a Dementor soared out of it with a hiss. The room got several degrees cooler and Harry could see his own breath condense as he followed it with his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" Nothing. Harry frowned as the thing got closer. He adjusted his grip on his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" A few silvery slivers...not enough. The room was dissolving into blackness now, and the voices were louder than ever.

_'Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"_

_The sounds of someone stumbling from a room-a door bursting open-a cackle of high-pithed laughter-_

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

_A crash like lightning-a sickening thump-a scream-_

_'James!'_

_More laughter-sobbing-_

_'Not Harry! Not Harry! Please-I'll do anything-'_

_'Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!'_

"Expecto...Expecto..." He felt a jarring pain as his knees hit the stone floor, and then nothing.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat in the Library scanning the book's pages. It was actually a very interesting read. This particular book focused on legendary characters that are usually presumed to be myth, and either further disproves them or suggests how they might exist. Although she wasn't sure how it was supposed to help her.<p>

She was about to give up. Trelawney was either sending her on a wild goose chase, or they weren't on the same page after all. Hermione flipped a few more chapters, getting to the letter 'N'. With nothing much better to do anyways, she began to read the first section.

_Nations:  
>For those who haven't read the old tales, Nations are described as near-immortal beings that literally represent a nation or country in all of it's aspects. This includes land(geographic features), and people(appearance, population, attitude, culture, government, language). <em>

_Nations are said to experience every significant thing that happens in the land they represent. Depending on how it affects the country is depending on how it affects them. Just as the health of a country is reflected on the health of the Nation. They live as long as the country does._

_According to the few accounts that have been recorded and preserved throughout history, they appear human. Almost always a near stereotype of their people. Although they tend to have several oddities in appearance and/or character that marks them as other-than-human. They have abnormal healing abilities when it comes to attacks on their physical body, and their magic is usually incredibly strong. While stronger than the average human, Nations vary in their strength when compared to each other.__  
><em>

_They are said to have gone into hiding long ago, if they ever existed. Many a human agent is said to have attempted to take Nations captive as leverage against their enemies either as a weapon or an object of bargaining. This is why they are so seldom seen by mortals._

_They could easily be hiding amongst us now, and we wouldn't know. Most have either forgotten or dismissed them entirely. But there are several accounts that suggest them as a possibility._

The rest of the section was filled with eyewitness accounts of possible Nation sightings around the world. Hermione read them avidly, and began to record the data on a sheet of parchment she had with her.

_-In 1243, a French witch said she had met a young blond boy on the southern coast of France who had switched accents no less than five times in the span of three sentences._

_-In the 1500's a fearsome English pirate named Arthur roamed the seas. There were several accounts of him being shot or cut down by a sword, but he could never seem to stay dead. _

Hermione wondered if the name was a coincidence.

_-1740, an albino man was seen in Prussia to fall off of a sheer cliff...and get back up again, dust himself off, and walk away._

_-1887, an American cowboy saved a man and his daughter when they got pinned under a heavy burning wagon. Despite it's weight, the cowboy had rolled the entire thing off of them with one hand._

_-1927, a Canadian was attacked by a dark wizard who tried to use the Killing Curse. Oddly enough, it didn't work. A team of Aurors arrived to find the dark wizard turning himself in for fear of the Canadian's hockey stick._

Hermione shut the book and fell into thought. Nations...could they exist? Was it even plausible? It would explain some things though. Like how Matthew acted older than he was, or how Alfred had a ridiculous amount of strength. Or how Professor Kirkland lectured on history like he was _there_.

But what would Nations be doing at Hogwarts? Something about Sirius Black, maybe?

Hermione chided herself for getting ahead of herself and jumping to conclusions. She couldn't be sure yet. She needed a confession of some kind first. Something that could prove her suspicions beyond even the _slightest_ doubt.

* * *

><p>Harry's eyes snapped open and he sucked in a deep breath. Alive...that's good. He gradually became aware of his surroundings, and saw Professor Lupin kneeling next to him with a Chocolate Frog in front of his nose.<p>

Harry didn't have to ask what happened. "S-sorry..." He took the Chocolate Frog and started to nibble on it, feeling better with each bite.

"It's alright," Lupin reassured gently. "I didn't expect you to get it the first time, that would've been remarkable."

"The voices were worse this time," Harry said. "Louder...and I heard my dad..." He realized there were tears streaking down his face. That was the first time he's ever heard his father's voice. When he had tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give his mother a chance to run for it.

He hid his face and wiped the tears away before the Professor could notice.

"You heard James?" Lupin asked in a strange voice.

"Yeah..." With his face dry, Harry looked up. "Why-you didn't know my dad, did you?"

"I-I did, as a matter of fact," Lupin said quietly. "We were friends at Hogwarts..." he trailed off.

Harry picked himself up off the ground, deciding to change the subject. "That was one nasty Dementor."

"Oh, no," Lupin said quickly. "That was a boggart. the real thing would be worse-much, much worse." He began to pace again. "As a matter of interest, what did you choose as your memory?"

"The first time I rode a broom," Harry responded.

Lupin turned towards him sharply. "Well that's not _nearly_ good enough, now is it?"

Harry sighed inwardly. What could be happier than that? He glanced around, looking for inspiration. Finding none, he stepped forward. Harry felt himself step on something. He picked up his fallen wand and studied it in his palm.

He remembered finding out that he was a wizard. he remembered the absolute, unadulterated joy he felt that he was leaving the Dursleys'...learning that he had a future...that he could have a _life_.

"There's another..." Harry said finally.

"Is it strong?" Lupin asked.

Harry nodded.

"Let's give it a try then." Lupin stepped behind the armored trunk again. "Ready?"

"Just do it," Harry said, pointing his wand at the thing.

Lupin solemnly undid the latches again, and opened the lid. The Boggart-Dementor glided out of the box again, and crept towards Harry with deadly intent.

"Execto Patronum!" Harry cried, earning a few silvery wisps.

The creature extended a skeletal hand with deadly intent. The room started blurring.

Harry planted his feet determinedly. _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

The tip of his wand exploded in silvery light. The Boggart-Dementor couldn't advance any farther, being repelled by the light. Harry could hardly hear the voices now. He felt exuberant. He'd done it! He'd actually done it! Lupin let out a relief filled laugh as Harry forced it back into the box.

"Well done!" Lupin exclaimed as he locked the trunk again. "Well _done_, Harry!"

Harry dropped his arm, feeling as though he was coming off of a sugar rush. "I-" He took a deep breath. "I think I've had enough for today."

"Indeed," the professor said, pulling out another Chocolate Frog from his pocket and offering it to Harry. "Eat this, it helps."

The Gryffindor boy took it gratefully and scarfed it down, sitting on a stone step.

Lupin sat next to him. "That was some_ fine_ wizarding my boy," he said. "Your father would be proud."

* * *

><p>Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of the term. Slytherin won by a narrow margin, which according to Wood, was good for Gryffindor because they could take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. Therefore, Wood had increased team practices to five times a week. This meant Harry didn't see his friends nearly as much, and that he was extremely hard pressed to do his homework.<p>

Even so, he wasn't showing the strain as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects(which Alfred had found absolutely hilarious), and file upon file of extensive notes. She barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.

"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry as he and Matthew worked together on a nasty essay on Undetectable Potions for Snape.

"Doing what?" Alfred asked idly, leaning back in his chair and balancing his wand on his nose.

"Getting to all her classes!" Ron answered. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector-the Arithmancy witch-this morning about yesterday's lesson. But she _couldn't_ have been there because she was with _us_ for Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"

Harry didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; he really needed to get on with his essay. two seconds later, however, he was interrupted again, this time by Wood.

"Harry!" Wood said excitedly. "McGonagall wants to see you in her office, said it was about your Firebolt!"

Harry put down his quill pen, gave an apologetic glance at Matthew, and nervously followed Wood out of the common room. What if there _was_ something wrong with it? What condition was it in after all these tests? He did his best to shove these worries into the darkest recesses of his mind.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said as he and Wood approached her desk.

Harry resisted the urge to gulp. McGonagall's face betrayed nothing.

"We've checked your broom for all of the usual curses," she said. She paused to reach behind her, pulling out a familiar piece of sporting equipment. "You've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it."

Harry's face broke into a grin that he felt might split his face and Wood let out a small whoop of joy. McGonagall relinquished it to Harry, a small smile gracing her visage. "Now _do_ try to win this year. or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..."

Speechlessly, Harry carried the Firebolt back upstairs and to the Gryffindor Tower. Wood stood by, probably even _more_ excited to have such an asset on his team. Harry could see a familiar expression on the Quidditch captain's face that said he was already altering strategies and formations, taking into account Harry's Firebolt.

Yes, indeed. Things were looking up.

* * *

><p><strong>Hah! One minute till midnight and I pulled another chapter! Aaaawesomeee!<strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews and stuff, they're equally awesome. Now I'm going to bed...I still have school tomorrow...**

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	27. Chapter 27

January became February, but one wouldn't know that when looking at the unchanging weather. The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet this evening. A small cluster of fourth years were huddled in a corner around some trinket someone had brought in. Hermione was at a nearby table, surrounded by great stacks of books and parchment filled with things like, "Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity" and "The Modern Application of Ancient Runes".

Alfred brooded a bit sullenly as he scooted closer to the active fireplace. A whole month closer to spring and it _still_ doesn't warm up? That's just all _kinds_ of wrong. Usually he'd be somewhere warmer around this time of year-after Christmas he tends to go somewhere like Arizona or California more often...alas, he's been stuck in Scotland all winter. A place where it _snows_. Nothing against Scotland _himself_, of course. Alistair is pretty cool, even if he doesn't particularly _enjoy_ Alfred's presence all that much...

"Al?"

Alfred shook himself out of his reverie and craned his neck to look behind him. "Yeah, Mattie?"

"Have you seen Neville?"

The American thought for a moment, not recalling seeing the pudgy Gryffindor since classes. "No, why?"

Matthew walked up behind his brother and bent down to rest his elbows on the back of Alfred's chair casually. "I heard he was good with Herbology, and I need a second opinion on the effects of Horned Agrita on a person poisoned by Liquid Supplicio..."

Alfred grimaced in sympathy. "Potions assignment?"

"Yeah," Matthew sighed. "Especially for me, because I had apparently adjusted Quebe-ah, _my glasses_ too loudly."

"Sucks, man," Alfred said, adjusting his own glasses. He gave up on the fireplace and lurched to his feet, deciding that _movement_ might work in warming himself. He rubbed his hands together and paced towards the nearest wall. He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction.

"Cold?" Matthew asked amusedly, taking his brother's seat.

"No comments from the Peanut Gallery, please," Alfred returned. He observed his brother's lack of discomfort enviously. "How are you not cold? It's totally not fair."

The Canadian leaned back and stretched his arms over his head languidly, taunting his twin. "Oh, you know...further north, more snow, lots of lakes, not a wimp...things like that."

Hermione didn't look up, but her writing had slowed down a bit...she was listening. But neither twin had noticed.

"Who's calling who a wimp?" Alfred challenged. "Just for that, the next summer meeting I'm hosting will be in Arizona."

"Never been," Matthew admitted. "But I honestly think people exaggerate about the heat down there. Your people _are_ prone to exaggeration."

Alfred smiled deviously, saying nothing. The two brothers enjoyed a comfortable silence as Alfred continued pacing and Matthew stared at the fire.

The silence was broken by the sound of the portrait hole opening. Harry and Ron walked in, followed closely by Neville. The pudgier boy looked a bit flustered...forgot the password again, then. Ron immediately went up the stairs towards the Boys' Dormitories, saying something about Rat Tonic.

Matthew stood up and approached Neville. "Oh, I wanted to ask you..." He and Neville ended up sitting together at an empty table. Neville was unusually animated in his speech, being able to talk about something he was good at. Matthew would nod occasionally and say something in return, setting Neville off to continue his impromptu lesson.

Meanwhile, Harry took Matthew's recently vacated seat. "Something on your mind?" he asked curiously.

"Hm?" Alfred stopped confusedly for a moment, but realization quickly dawned on him. "Oh, no. Just cold. Waaaaay too cold. Can't wait for spring."

"Ah," Harry said. He noticed the furiously studying Hermione. "Would you like to come join us?" he called. "You've been doing nothing but studying for _weeks_ now."

"Yeah, take a break!" Alfred encouraged. He strode to the table and leaned over the bushy-haired girl's shoulder. "No mortal being can do _that_ much paperwork all the time."

Hermione put down her quill, noticing the odd wording the American had used. "Mortal being?" she asked suspiciously.

Alfred took an almost frantic step back. "Ah! Er-um-I mean..."

At that moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. Everyone fell silent, and Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one.

Ron, with a tragic look on his face, stomped into view, dragging a bunch of white sheets with him. "LOOK!" he bellowed, making his way to the table and practically jumping on Hermione. "LOOK!" he yelled again, shaking the sheets in her face.

Hermione leaned back, utterly bewildered. Alfred stepped in front of her and smoothly intercepted Ron, taking the shaking hand in his own and seizing the sheets. "Woah, woah, _woah_, dude. Don't be like that-"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!" Ron cried angrily. "AND IT'S HER _BLOODY_ FAULT!"

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, struggling to his feet and stepping closer. He took the proffered sheets from Alfred and studied them closely. A sickeningly familiar red hue against white greeted his eyes. "Is that-?"

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled to the stunned silence. He gave an accusing glare over the American's shoulder at Hermione. "HE'S GONE! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?!"

"N-no," Hermione answered in a quiet, trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation homework. Everyone leaned forward to get a closer look.

Long, ginger cat hairs.

* * *

><p>Ron and Hermione weren't talking again, and it looked like the end of their friendship. Harry honestly didn't see how they could <em>ever<em> make up again.

Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, and that she hadn't bothered to keep a closer eye on the feline. Hermione fiercely maintained that Ron had no real proof of Crookshanks's guilt, and suggested that Ron look under all of the boy's beds.

Alfred didn't really care about Scabbers, nor did he care about Crookshanks. He had proclaimed both Ron and Hermione utterly ridiculous and equally at fault. His reasoning was that Hermione should have been more considerate about watching her pet, while Ron shouldn't have blamed Hermione completely for the cat being...well, a _cat_.

Matthew more sided with Hermione, it seemed. While he believed that Crookshanks had probably eaten Scabbers, he felt that the rat was of such ill health that it was all for the better.

Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when he had tried to point that out to Hermione that the evidence pointed that way, she lost her temper with Harry as well. She accused him of taking Ron's side with everything and stormed off.

Classes were no improvement on matters, of course. In History of Magic, they were each assigned a partner for a class activity. Hermione and Ron were put together by chance, and they ended up arguing so violently that Professor Kirkland had to magically glue each of their hands to their desks before things could come to magical blows.

"I don't know what what _your_ impression of this room's purpose is," the bushy-browed teacher said irritatedly. "But my class is _not_ a dueling ring where students settle disagreements about their recently deceased pets!"

In Potions, while Snape was out, Ron overheard Matthew say something about Kumajiro not liking Scabbers either. The ginger-haired boy had jumped to his feet and slammed both hand's on the Canadian's desk. _"Your bear killed Scabbers!"_ he hissed accusingly.

Matthew's expression fell into something almost like disappointment. "No, he didn't...I feel sorry that you have such a low opinion of Kumajiro, but he said he didn't kill Scabbers, so I believe him."

Alfred seemed rather incensed at Ron's outburst as he added, "No need to blow up over every freakin' mention of your damn rodent."

Ron looked only slightly repentant as he trudged back to his lab station, grumbling to himself. He sat down just in time for Snape to reenter the classroom.

Harry was sure to make Ron apologize later. He didn't need _all_ his friends fighting with each other.

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed as he shuffled through the essays that had been turned in that day. While he didn't like the paperwork, he did see the value of handwritten work that could easily give signs as to what was going on in the students' private lives. He'd never be as good at this as that Holmes fellow, but he'd picked up some things.<p>

Harry was doing decently in his class, so nothing was really getting in the way of his study time, and he probably wasn't slacking. His handwriting was neat, and the parchment was mostly without creases or crinkles. So he wasn't rushed.

Malfoy's work had suspiciously girlish handwriting, a near match to a third of the Slytherins in his classes...not to mention that they all held mostly the same format with the same details and the near identical theses...someone in Slytherin House was doing other people's homework, it seemed. And they weren't even that _good_ at covering their tracks. Arthur smiled maliciously as he put it in the pile with the other copied papers. That is _not_ acceptable in his class, and he'd be sure to make it known next time.

Ron's paper was messy, with ink splotches littering the paper, like he had run out of ink a few times or dropped his quill. The writing was larger to accommodate for the lack of actual substance, and some of the statements seemed half-baked. But in the same token, it got the point across, and showed that he had at least near average understanding of the material. Not to mention that he had bothered actually _doing_ it, unlike some of his peers.

He looked twice at Hermione's paper. What's this? The writing was slanted down to the right, and the spaces were farther apart. The penmanship was a bit rushed and there was a tiny note in the margins...was that an Arithmancy equation? Kirkland sighed and placed the paper in the stack. It was a perfect score, of course. But he'd seen her schedule. No one could take that many classes unless...of course. That was the _only_ possibility. Well, if anyone was worthy of a timeturner it was Miss Granger, and she's certainly using it in the most effective way she knows how. But she's overworking herself, and is probably feeling the strain by now.

The blond Nation leaned back and rubbed his eyes tiredly. That girl just doesn't know when to quit, does she? Englishwoman, through and through. Prideful and not willing to admit a mistake, or that she'd taken on too much. An admirable quality, if England did say so himself, but detrimental to health if she continued much longer.

He knew Alfred and Matthew had become fast friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Perhaps he could speak to them about Hermione's behavior as well, she_ has_ been rather despondent as of late...

A loud knock on the door interrupted his musings. Kirkland lurched to his feet and crossed the room. He opened the door, revealing none other than a rather reluctant looking Professor Lupin.

Kirkland opened the door wider. "Ah, Remus! I feel that I must thank you for not being Snape."

The shabby professor offered a shy smile. "Indeed, ah..." he hesitated.

Kirkland's brow furrowed slightly in worry. "What? Is something wrong?"

"N-no, well..." Lupin stopped and sighed. "Maybe, I don't know. I'm sorry, Arthur. I know how much you'll hate this..."

The green eyed teacher waited, saying nothing.

"With things being as they are, and with recent events well...you've been called for an evaluation by your peers, because of...suspicions about your background." Lupin looked down at his shoes a moment, as if afraid of the blond teacher's response.

Kirkland pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He did _not_ want to deal with this. "Evaluation by my peers...as in, an interrogation by the other professors and the headmaster?"

Lupin nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, I truly am. It's incredibly stupid, but Dumbledore insists. He told me to come and fetch you."

Arthur released his nose and grabbed his green cloak from a nearby hook. "It's not your fault that Albus is being a complete git. I'm sure that most of the professors would rather be doing _anything_ else too."

Lupin visibly relaxed and gave a wry smile. "Why, yes. In fact, I have tests to grade. So lets just get this over with."

Professor Kirkland gestured grandly. "Lead the way, my good man."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my GOOOOOD, this chapter took FOREVER TO WRITE! But it's finally done, and I'm working on the next one after class(I'm in the library again).<strong>

**Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews guys and gals! So...what'cha think so far?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	28. Chapter 28

Arthur followed Lupin into a rather cavernous room that he hadn't been in before. Miscellaneous dust and/or sheet covered objects cluttered the place. Probably one of the many, many storage rooms that Hogwarts had. A long table of polished mahogany sat in the center of the room, which had just recently been cleared away, from the looks of it. The mismatched chairs were mostly taken. There was McGonagall, who seemed at best irritated for having to be here. Trelawney was there too, holding herself with an air of misty detachment. Snape had an almost smug sneer on his face as his glittering black eyes tracked Kirkland's every movement.

And there, at the head of the table, sat headmaster himself. Dumbledore had an easy expression on his face, as if they were simply having a tea party rather than conducting an interrogation. Arthur frowned. What is this old coot's aim, exactly?

Lupin offered a reassuring smile as he walked to an empty seat on McGonagall's left. Arthur noticed that the last available chair was at the end of the table closest to him. He sat down carefully, feeling all eyes on him. Now if only he could get this much attention during _World Meetings_...

"Professor Kirkland, it's so good of you to join us!" Dumbledore said jovially, his eyes twinkling like always.

"It's not as if I had a choice," Arthur responded, affecting disinterest. Acting nervous would earn him no points, here.

"Do you know why we've called you here?" Snape asked coolly.

"An 'evaluation by my peers', from what I've been told," Kirkland answered. "But I'm reasonably sure this is more along the lines of interrogation. Am I correct, headmaster?"

Dumbledore's expression grew marginally more serious, and his tone became slightly more clipped. "Well, surely you understand, given recent events."

"Yes, yes," Arthur responded. "I'd be daft to not see that. I'm just wondering what I've done to make you think I've anything to do with that Sirius Black fellow."

"Not necessarily anything so dire," McGonagall said. "But we need to be sure of your intentions and alignments before we allow you to run about Hogwarts doing what you please." She paused before quietly finishing with, "I'm sorry Arthur...but we have little room for error in today's world."

The blond man looked down at the table briefly, thinking of his response. "Alright then...what do you find unclear, exactly?"

Lupin began the questioning. "Why did you decide to teach here?"

"Because I needed a break from my regular job, and I decided teaching would put my knowledge to good use." Arthur exhaled the breath he was holding in relief. He's been ready for _this_ particular question since the beginning of the year.

"And your charges?" McGonagall asked. "Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams?"

"They were extremely curious about where I went to school-always asking questions...so I had them enroll in an exchange student program so that they could experience it." Kirkland privately hoped that Alfred and Matthew's excuse was similar.

"Why does no one remember you at Hogwarts?" Trelawney asked distantly.

"Most likely because I didn't really do anything of note," Arthur responded smoothly.

"How do you know the Minister?" Snape demanded.

"He's essentially my _boss_," Arthur gritted out. "How could I _not_ know him?" Really these questions are rather ridiculous and mundane...why are they even bothering?

Lupin seemed to realize this too. He rested his chin on his hand and sighed loudly. "With all due respect, Headmaster. How could Arthur _possibly_ be a Death Eater? He's one of our best professors and hasn't even touched a hair on a single student's head despite having infinite opportunities to do so."

"You seem a bit _tense_, Lupin," Snape said icily. "We've barely even started and you already wish to leave?"

Dumbledore waved the severe teacher down idly. "Please, Severus. We aren't here to evaluate Professor Lupin."

"Oh, no," Arthur said, unable to hold his tongue. "You're all here to interrogate _me_."

"Indeed we are," Dumbledore said good-naturedly. He regarded the green-eyed teacher closely. "So tell me, Professor Kirkland...why are your files in the Ministry marked with 'Top Secret'?"

Arthur cursed inwardly. He hadn't thought of that. "I can't tell you," he said aloud. "That's why its a secret."

"No secret could possibly be any more vital or terrible than what has been shared here before," McGonogall said. "Like how-"

"I'm willing to bet it has something to do with your aura," Trelawney interrupted mistily. "Tea...rain...rolling green hills...vast oceans...what are you hiding?"

Kirkland decided to go with an approach that's served him well for years. He carefully arranged his face into an expression of vague confusion and wary curiosity. "I have...absolutely _no_ clue as to what you're talking about. What do I have to do with oceans, hills, and...what was that other thing you said...tea?"

"_Please_ Professor Dumbledore," Lupin said loudly. "Could we just _end_ this already?"

A few teachers mumbled in agreement about this, and Dumbledore raised his hands in a gesture that demanded attention from everyone. The occupants of the room waited with bated breath for him to speak. "I realize," he said. "That most of you would rather not be here. I also see that none of you have found reason to suspect Professor Kirkland of anything." He paused a moment, giving each person a significant look. "But in light of recent events, and some ah..._concern_, over Voldemort's followers, we have _no room_ to hide anything from each other here. As you clearly are." He directed this last statement directly as Arthur. "And I also have a confession to make."

"Confession?" McGonagall echoed suspiciously. "What did you _do_, Albus?" The other professors seemed pensively curious about this as well.

"When Arthur Kirkland applied for his position, I was initially leery about allowing an unknown variable enter the school. He'd never been heard of before now. So, naturally, Severus and I did some investigation." Dumbledore's gaze rested once again on Arthur. "We concluded that since the Ministry was unwilling to let us see your files, and since you had no previous relations for us to refer to, we would need to keep an _eye_ on you. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

Arthur bristled, clenching the edge of his chair to avoid lashing out at the daft professor. "I do _indeed_ understand, Headmaster," he gritted out. "You've been _spying on me_."

"Please, Arthur-" Dumbledore started.

"No, everything is _quite_ clear to me," Kirkland said icily. "You don't know me, which makes you paranoid because_ I'm_ the unknown variable. Which is also why you bugged my _room_, my _classroom_, and possibly my very _clothes_." He stopped a moment to gather himself, before cracking an almost dangerous smile and leaning back in his chair. "And what were your findings? I'm _terribly_ curious."

"...You're not human," Dumbledore finally said. "I'm not sure _what_ you are, but it's not human. I'm willing to bet that Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams aren't human either."

"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "You've intruded on someone's _private_ business! Paranoia is no excuse for your conduct! His humanity is _completely_ irrelevant."

"How do we know he's not a Dark Wizard on top of that?" Snape shot at her. "Now is not the time to hide behind a Code of Conduct."

Lupin stood up as well. "I for one, trust Professor Kirkland with my life! So what if he's different? He's done nothing wrong, and is quite competent at his job."

"You trust him?" Snape sneered. "Like how that fool Potter trusted Black with his-"

_"STOP!"_ Trelawney shouted, effectively shutting everyone up. It's not often that the owlish teacher raises her voice. She swept an accusing finger at everyone in the room. "_More than one person_ is at fault here! So we shouldn't try to heap all the blame on one." She pointed at the neutral-faced headmaster. "Dumbledore should not have spied on Kirkland! It is an awful breach of conduct that shouldn't ever be necessary!" She directed her finger at Arthur. "He should not have bothered hiding his species, for it caused mistrust and strife among us." She directed the finger at herself, quieting down a bit. "And I...I should not have pried in something that was not my business. If I did not voice my suspicions over Arthur's aura...maybe things would've been a bit better." She sat down again, not looking up from the table.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Arthur wondered what he would do now. Perhaps the truth would be best...but not the _whole_ truth...especially not now. He stood up, gaining the attention of the room. "You are right," Arthur said, his voice never wavering. "I am not human-neither is Alfred or Matthew, for that matter. But I cannot tell you what I am for reasons that you do not have the clearance to know. That is why my files are Top Secret." He paused and observed the rapt faces of McGonagall, Trelawney, and Lupin, along the completely neutral looks of Snape and Dumbledore. He continued, "I _can_ tell you that I came here for more than a break from my regular job-although that _is_ a perk. I am here because of Harry Potter." Arthur ignored Snape's rolling eyes and pressed on. "He is _very_ important to my continued existence, so I felt the need to protect him. This is why Alfred, Matthew, and I came here. I can't tell you anything else, so please...don't ask."

He turned on his heel, rapidly exiting the room before anyone could respond.

* * *

><p>She stepped into the empty Boy's Dormitory feeling like she was doing something illegal. Girls should <em>never<em> have a reason to sneak in here, and if it ever got out that she _did_...

Hermione shook such thoughts from her head. Everyone was already at the Quidditch Match, and she _needed_ to do this. The bushy-haired Gryffindor girl glanced around, quickly identifying Alfred's bed as the one next to Harry's. Who else would have a star-spangled blue pillow on their bed to go with the red and gold draperies and bedspread?

She approached it carefully, afraid to even make a sound despite the fact that she was the only one in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione swore silently as she stumbled over someone's shoes and bumped into Harry's bedside table. _Boys_, they can never clean up properly!

She stopped as she noticed something sticking out from under the table, which had been revealed after she had accidentally moved the piece of furniture concealing it. She picked it up out of curiosity, and gasped at the sight of none other than the Marauders' Map in her hands.

Hermione looked at the inked title in confusion. Wasn't the writing supposed to disappear when someone recited the...oh. She chuckled to herself. Harry had forgotten about the enchantment to hide the writing! Hermione looked around briefly. Still no one around...and it wouldn't hurt to just _look_, right?

Thus justified, she opened the map and eagerly scanned it's contents. According to the detailed drawings, most everyone was at the Quidditch Field save for herself and a few professors who...Hermione blinked and peered closer at the map.

Someone was in Professor Kirkland's room, but the name kept trying to rewrite itself. It would get through about half of the name before disappearing and trying to write something else.

_Lord Gr-_

_James A-_

_Alice Bre-_

_Tobias Ho-_

_Elizabeth Len-_

She blinked again as it showed part of her _own_ name. What in the world?..."

Hermione quickly folded the map and put it back where she'd found it. She glanced at a clock sitting on the bedside table. If she hurried, she'd be able to see the second half of the game. Then she could try to figure out the mystery of the name that couldn't decide upon itself.

* * *

><p>"YEEEEEHAAAAW! GOOOO HARRY!"<p>

"_Alfred!_ Don't do that so close to my bloody ear! Ron exclaimed with a sharp wince.

The American stopped cheering long enough to give Ron a sheepish smile. "Sorry, dude. I just want Harry to hear me over everyone."

"I think the entire school heard that one, Al," Matthew said mildly as he watched the game with interest. "Look at him go though...Ravenclaw has _no_ chance!"

_"AND KATIE SCORES A GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR!"_ the announcer called with a magnified voice. _"THAT'S THE FIRST GOAL OF THE MATCH, EVERYONE!"_

The stands went wild, wood creaking under the weight of the cheering Gryffindor students.

"I think Harry sees it!" Ron exclaimed, pointing to the diving red blur that was Harry. He suddenly veered off course as a Bludger hit by one of Ravenclaw's Beaters went careening in his direction.

There was a unanimous, disheartened groan from Gryffindor's supporters. But there was a thunderous applause on the Ravenclaw end of the field.

Vengeful laughter could be heard as George Weasley hit the second Bludger off in the offending Ravenclaw player's direction, causing the Ravenclaw to have to roll over in midair to avoid it.

_"GRYFFINDOR LEADS BY EIGHTY POINTS TO ZERO, AND LOOK AT THAT FIREBOLT GO! POTTER'S REALLY PUTTING IT THROUGH IT'S PACES NOW, SEE IT TURN-..."_

The game progressed with Ravenclaw gaining three goals, which meant Gryffindor was only fifty points ahead.

"If that Cho Chang girl gets the snitch, then it's all over for Gryffindor," Ron said nervously.

Alfred winced as he watched Harry veer off-course again to avoid hitting the female seeker. "She's obviously just following him..." he stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth. "C'MON THROW 'ER FOR A LOOP! KNOCK HER ASS OFF HER BROOM-BE A GOOD BOY _LATER!_"

The trio watched in utter fascination as Harry flew up over the game, overlooking the field in search of the snitch. He finally noticed Cho Chang, and responded by ducking into a sharp dive that she followed, and veering back up at an angle she couldn't follow. he stopped a moment before speeding towards the Ravenclaw end, apparently having seen the snitch-

"Wait a minute," Matthew said, pointing at something on the field. "Are those Dementors down there?!"

Alfred squinted, trying to get a better look at the three cloaked figures on the ground. "Maybe-hey, Harry's headed right for 'em!"

A sudden flash of silvery-white light burst forth from Harry's wand and rushed at the figures, causing them to fall down.

_"HARRY'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH-GRYFFINDOR WINS THE GAME!"_ the announcer exclaimed excitedly. The stands erupted into cheers at this.

Alfred pumped a fist in the air, "Hell yeah! Gryffindor, house of heroes, has vanquished it's enemies yet again!"

Matthew smiled and shook his head over his brother's antics. Ron clapped each twin on the shoulder jovially. "Let's go congratulate him, shall we?" He grabbed each one by the wrists and lead them down the nearest set of stairs towards the field.

* * *

><p>It felt as though Gryffindor House had <em>already<em> won Quidditch Cup. The party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George had obtained bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets to fuel the festivities.

Only one person wasn't joining the festivities. Hermione was there, sitting in a corner and attempting to read an enormous book entitled _'Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles'_. Harry broke away from his team's revelry and went over to her.

"Did you even come to the match?" he asked her.

"Of course," she said in a strangely high-pitched voice. "Though I only caught the second half...I was very glad to see that we won, and I think you did very well. But I need to read this by Monday."

Matthew came seemingly out of nowhere as he said, "Come have some food, Hermione; take a well deserved break."

"I can't, Matthew, I've still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!" said Hermione, sounding slightly hysterical. "Anyway..." She glanced in Ron's direction. "_He_ doesn't want me to join in."

Hermione was certainly correct in her assumption. For Ron chose that moment to say loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them-"

The Gryffindor Girl burst into tears. Before anyone could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and beat a hasty retreat, brushing past Alfred as he was walking to join them. She disappeared up the staircase to the Girl's Dormitory.

Alfred turned a sharp glare at Ron that would make anyone cringe. "Dude, quit being such a asshole!"

Ron faced him fully, refusing to back down. "_Maybe_ if she'd at least apologized and kept a better eye on her cat. But no, that mangy creature still has run of the castle!"

"Don't you see she's running herself ragged as it is?" Alfred demanded. Ron looked down at his shoes as that. "The last thing she needs is for one of her _only_ friends to get all butthurt about his creepy stupid rat every time she shows her face!"

The Common Room got really quiet at this, nearly everyone watching the scene before them

Ron frowned angrily. "You sound like my mother!" He took a half step forward, puffing out his chest. "Why do _you_ care, huh?"

Alfred took two long strides and nearly bumped chests with Ron, his hands clenching into tight fists. "You made a lady cry by being extremely immature-even for _your_ age. You just don't _do_ that shit."

"Sorry to inform you," Ron scoffed. "But I do what I want, not what you say."

Matthew took a nervous step backwards when he saw his brother's face. Harry decided to follow suit, knowing that Ron had it coming on this one.

Alfred lashed out, his fist crashing into Ron's jaw. Ron staggered backwards, clutching his throbbing jaw with a shocked expression. Alfred took advantage of this by placing his foot behind the redhead's ankle, causing him to trip and fall to the floor. The American grabbed Ron's robes and pulled him close. "When she comes back down here, you _will_ apologize, _sincerely_," he snarled angrily, causing Ron to gulp. "And you _will_ reflect upon what you've done, and you _will_ have the decency to be ashamed for your conduct!"

He released Ron and surveyed the shocked faces all around the room. "Hermione Granger works way too hard, and I admire her for it. _No one_ should be giving her shit about it." With that, he turned and stalked out of the Common Room, not even the obnoxious portrait saying a word.

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaaaaay! I got another chapter done! Rejoice! <strong>

**I can't very well make everything _always_ peachy keen between the Golden Trio and the North American brothers can I?...at least, that's how I'm coping with what just happened.**

**That bit with the interrogation, though...I'm not sure about it. It was really hard to write.**

**Back in the day, you didn't make a lady cry if you could help it. I feel that Alfred would maintain certain values and a certain conduct based on what was acceptable historically, and the same would go for other Nations. Of course, only to a certain extent, seeing as how it is their nature to adapt according to their peoples' cultures. **

**Thanks for all the forms of support I've been given(reading, favs, follows, and reviews)...speaking of which, could I get a review or two about what you guys thought of this chapter?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	29. Chapter 29

The party was pretty much over after Alfred had punched Ron. Not even Ron's siblings had anything to say, deciding that it needed to happen. Matthew knelt down to check and make sure Ron's jaw hadn't been broken before silently following his brother up the stairs. Harry gave his longtime friend a pitying look when he noticed the large, rapidly purpling bruise on Ron's face. Seeing that the redhead probably wasn't up to talking at the moment, he decided to go to bed as well.

The door to the Boy's Dormitory was partially open. Harry could hear the quiet voices of Alfred and Matthew inside.

"Did you really need to punch him?" came Matthew's voice. "You're really lucky that there was no lasting damage."

"Sometimes the only way to get through to a guy is through his face," Alfred responded, his voice sounding aged. "I learned that from Old Hickory, and it hasn't failed me yet."

"Still," Matthew said. "It's going to hurt him to talk for a day at least. He might complain to the professors, or even Dumbledore. The evidence is _literally_ written all over his face." The Canadian paused before sighing exasperatedly and saying, "You need to think these things _through_ more often, Alfred."

"I _did_ think this through," Alfred said intently. "I want everyone to see it-to stare at him when he goes to class and meals-to ask him questions about it. I want him to look in the mirror every morning, and be reminded of what I did. I want him to remember _why_ I did it. He needs to understand that it wasn't okay to be like that."

There was a telltale creaking that signified someone sitting on a bed. "I never imagined that _you'd_ be the one to teach someone about maturity," Matthew said, a smile coloring his voice. "You know, being the most immature of us all."

Alfred made a rude noise and said, "I'm _telling_ you though, we can totally do the giant global warming superhero thing. Tony gave me the estimations and blueprints-_I_ think we should try it." Harry noted that Alfred's voice was once again was carefree and happy.

"I don't know what makes you trust that 'friend' of yours, but everyone _else_ has enough common sense not to do so," Matthew said almost tiredly. "Now, I'm going to bed. This is one of those days where waking me will be your death. _Again_. Goodnight."

Harry walked in just in time to see Matthew pull his covers over his head and begin to snore softly. "How does he fall asleep so fast?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. He just decides to sleep, and it happens. I kinda envy him for that-I don't think he's ever had a sleepless night without actually _wanting_ one."

Harry regarded the sleeping Canadian a moment more before just shaking his head and turning towards his own bed. "I think that I'll turn in as well. It's been a very long day..."

Alfred offered a small smile and leaned back onto his pillow. "Same here. G'night, dude."

Harry's response was cut off by a loud snore. He glanced and saw that the American had fallen asleep just as fast as his brother. Harry snorted quietly and wondered if Alfred even _knew_ that he shared this trait with his brother. One wouldn't think he did from the way he was talking about it. Harry shut off his lamp, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry had an odd dream that night.<p>

_He walked through the forest, the only sound coming from the rustle of his clothes and the crunch of autumn leaves under his boots. Harry was carrying his Firebolt, but he couldn't quite remember why. There was a rustle of leaves, and suddenly Professor Kirkland was standing before him, in vaguely military styled clothes. His expression was completely blank, his eyes betraying nothing. Harry stopped and regarded the bushy-browed teacher._

_Kirkland looked down at him, and spoke with a deep rumbling voice-like a lion. "Go that way, child. You will find what you're looking for there." He pointed off to his right, and Harry followed his directions without question. _

_Next he saw what seemed to be older versions of Alfred and Matthew standing with their backs to Harry. Both looked over their shoulders, Alfred's face showing distracted amusement and Matthew's showing pensiveness. _

_"Wonder if he's figured it out yet?" Alfred wondered aloud, his own voice sounding like a violent wind ripping across a prairie._

_"He'll figure it out soon enough," Matthew stated surely. "If he doesn't, then he won't need to know." The Canadian's voice had an odd quality to it as well, almost like a harsh blizzard in the tundra._

_They both turned away from him again, and disappeared when Harry blinked. When he found them gone, the boy continued walking. He glimpsed something silvery in the distance, but he couldn't make out what it was. He jogged to try and get a good look at it, but it sped up and just outdistanced him. Harry broke into a run, and the thing galloped away. Its form got smaller and smaller, no matter how much he-_

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Harry was jarred violently awake. Groggy and disoriented, he fumbled with his blankets in the darkness. He could hear movements around him, and Seamus Finnigan's voice from the other side of the room saying, "What's going on?"

Matthew could be heard next. "This had better be good..."

Alfred grunted as he sat up. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, "But I _didn't_ steal the green giraffe's beret, so I shouldn't have to eat the pencil flavored soupspoon, right?"

This was enough to cause everyone to stare at the American boy for a moment, before Ron cried out again in terror. "He was there! Right there! Standing right over me with a knife! Woke me up!"

"Who was right there?" Neville asked, as if afraid of the answer.

"Sirius Black!" Ron sobbed, still shaking.

"Are you sure that you're not just imagining things?" Matthew asked, now fully awake.

Ron shook his head violently. "I swear it-he-he slashed my curtains-see?" He jumped up and grasped the dark red and gold hangings, spreading them so that everyone could see several jagged tears in them.

"Good God!" Dean Thomas whispered fearfully.

"Yep, that was a knife alright," Alfred said nonchalantly, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and standing with a stretch. "Weeell, let's go tell Minnie 'r Stumbledrunk 'r somethin' cause I still wanna go ta bed..." He shuffled off, presumably to go tell a teacher.

No one else in the room could be so casual about the situation. Ron flung himself out of bed, quickly followed by Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Harry. They sprinted down the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called after them.

"Who shouted?"

"What're you doing?"

The Common Room was barely lit by the dying fire. The place was still littered with debris from the party, and completely deserted.

"How'd he even get in here?"

"I'm more worried about when he'll come back!"

"What's all the noise?"

"Professor McGonagall told us all to go to bed!"

A few girls had come down their staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys were reappearing as well.

"I thought the party was over," Fred Weasley said.

"But if we _are_ carrying on..." George continued.

"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the Common Room and pinning his Head Boy badge onto his pajamas.

"Perce-Sirius Black!" Ron insisted faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The Common Room went very still at his words.

"Nonsense!" Percy said, looking rather startled. "You've had too much to eat, Ron-had a nightmare-"

"I'm telling you-"

"Silence!"

The room got quiet once again as Professor McGonagall, decked out in pink pajamas and matching slippers, was lead by the arm into the room by Alfred. The fact that Alfred was _touching_ McGonagall, and_ pulling her by the arm_ was a sign of how unawake he really was.

Alfred let go and made a generalized sweeping gesture in their direction. McGonagall glared about the room. "Believe me, I'm happy that we won the Quidditch match as well, but this is really getting rather ridiculous!" She directed a rather pointed look at Percy. "I expected better of you!"

"I didn't authorize this!" Percy defended. "Ronald just had a nightmare and-"

"It wasn't a nightmare!" Ron fairly yelled, gaining the attention of the room. "_Please_ Professor. Sirius Black was standing over my bed with a knife and nearly killed me! I swear it! Just look at my bed hangings!"

The stern professor seemed extremely unsettled by this. "How is that even possible? Where would Black have gotten the password?"

"You could ask the portrait himself?" Matthew suggested shyly.

McGonagall regarded the Canadian for a moment before exiting the room again. She addressed the portrait quietly, apprehension slightly tinting her voice. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" Cadogan answered dutifully.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the Common Room.

"You-you did?" Professor McGonagall asked, utterly horrified. "But-but the password!"

"He had them!" the painting said proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "Which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was complete silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes, raised his hand.

* * *

><p>No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night-well, none except for Alfred. The castle was being searched again, and the whole House waited in the Common Room to hear if Black had been caught or not. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn to grimly inform them that he'd escaped once again.<p>

Throughout the day, everywhere they went saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black. Professor Kirkland had taught the suits of armor throughout the castle to attack Black if he was spotted, while Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks to mouse holes.

Sir Cadogan had been fired and returned to the seventh floor. The Fat Lady had returned, expertly restored. But she only agreed to return to her job on the condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in one menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

Harry couldn't help but notice the statue of the one-eyed witch remained unguarded, which made it obvious that Fred and George had been right in saying that veryfew people probably knew about it.

"Should we tell someone?" Harry asked Matthew.

"I don't think that's necessary," the Canadian answered dismissively. "We would've heard if Honeydukes was broken into and…" He trailed off uncertainly.

"And?" Harry pressed.

Matthew turned and studied the statue contemplatively. "Call me ridiculous, but I'd personally prefer to have some way out of school…if push came to shove."

Harry couldn't argue on that point. "What made _you_ so paranoid?" he asked curiously.

Matthew eyed him solemnly. "The same thing that causes Dementors and myself to not mix so well."

Harry made a noncommittal noise. He was glad that Matthew felt that way, but for other reasons. _He_ more just wanted to be able to go to Hogsmeade.

Meanwhile, Ron had become something of a celebrity around the school thanks to his ordeal, and was clearly enjoying it. He was still shaken by his experience, but would gladly tell anyone who asked with a wealth of detail.

Later, Harry and Alfred found him entertaining a trio of second year girls with his chilling tale. "…and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft…I woke up and found my hangings completely shredded!...I rolled over…and there he was , standing over me…like a skeleton, with loads of filthy fair…holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches…I yelled and he _scampered_."

"But how did you get that bruise on your face?" a Hufflepuff girl asked. "Did he strike you?"

Ron suddenly got rather quiet and sullen, his expression dimming. "Er…no…that was…Alfred…he, ah…punched me."

"_Alfred_ punched you?" a Ravenclaw girl snickered. "I kind of want to hear _that_ story!"

Ron looked at his shoes ashamedly. "I'd…rather not-it wasn't that important…just a small fight."

"_Riiiiight_," said Alfred, coming up behind beside him. He clapped Ron's back hard enough to make him lurch forward and release a quiet gasp. "Just a small fight. _No_ big deal at all."

The Ravenclaw girl sniffed skeptically and said, "Whatever you say. If I'm terribly desperate to know then I'll just ask my friend in Gryffindor. Come on Meghan. Lucy."

The girls left, laughing. Ron hung his head slightly before looking at Alfred tiredly. "Did you really have to do that?" he grumbled.

"Yes," Alfred responded brightly without batting an eye. Harry wondered if he was the only one who found this a bit creepy. "I know you haven't apologized yet, so how about in Transfigurations today? Not that I'm giving you an _option_, of course."

Ron shivered slightly at the threatening undertones of that statement.

* * *

><p>The class itself was overall uneventful (more notes than anything), but the end of class is where things got interesting. Hermione gathered her things and began to beat a hasty retreat, but Alfred grabbed her by the wrist before she could leave. "Wait!"<p>

Hermione turned back to look at him, utter exhaustion written all over her face. "Alfred?... No, whatever it is, I can't deal with it right now. I have a class to get to!" She tried to wrest her arm free, but the American's grip was too strong as he drew her back into the room as gently as he could.

He bodily turned her around to face Ron, who was standing by as unobtrusively as he possibly could. "Ron here has something to say," Alfred said. He released her and quietly stepped back.

The redhead looked down at his shoes. " 'm s'rry."

Alfred reached over and socked him lightly on the arm. "_Louder_."

Ron rubbed the abused limb as he tried again. "I'm…I'm sorry." He made cautious eye contact with the bushy-haired girl, waiting for a response.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you really mean that? Because it seems like Alfred's just _forcing_ you to apologize."

"No, no!" Ron said frantically as she began to turn away. "Please! It's just…I just…I really _am_ sorry, 'Mione."

Him uttering the old nickname gave her pause. "…Really?"

Ron took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for valuing an old rat's fate over our friendship. I kind of _was_ being a git about the whole thing." He fiddled with the hem of his robe. "I haven't said so before now because, well…I was afraid…and too bloody prideful for my own good. So really I-"

Hermione cut him off by hugging him tightly around the neck. She pulled back and gave him a small smile. "I forgive you, and I'd like to apologize as well. I should've minded Crookshanks more diligently-I…" she stopped and shook her head. "I don't even know anymore…" She scrutinized the Ron's face. "Is that a bruise on your face?"

Ron nodded ruefully and rubbed his still aching face. "Yeah…Alfred knocked some sense into me."

The Gryffindor girl sent a reproving glare at the American. "You're lucky his jaw is still _intact_! You hardly know your strength, Mister _I-can-push-over-a-whole-school-library-bookcase-just-by-leaning-on-it_!"

"Hey, the librarian, like, _totally_ forgave me after a week or four," Alfred defended. "Besides-"

_"Ahem,"_ a new voice said.

The three Gryffindor students turned to see Professor McGonagall, still sitting at her desk, and giving them all a stern look. "This is all _very_ nice, but shouldn't you all be getting to your next class?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, no! I'll be late-bye, see you all at dinner!" She turned and rushed off.

As Ron and Alfred turned to leave as well, McGonagall called out again. "Except for you, Alfred. I need to speak with you about something. _Privately_."

Alfred beckoned Ron to go on with a confident smile. "No worries, dude. I'll catch up. Snape prob'ly _already_ wanted me for detention, anyways ."

Ron nodded and jogged off, leaving the blond alone with Professor McGonagall.

Alfred approached the desk casually, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket and offering a sunny smile. "You wanted to see me, Prof?"

"Yes…Alfred," McGonagall said. The uncharacteristic hesitation and odd expression on her face put the American on guard.

"So…" Alfred said into the following silence.

The professor looked at Alfred strangely a moment more, before finally giving a tired sigh. "I'm sorry, Alfred," she said. "There's just no putting this gently." She peered closely at him, as if gauging for a reaction. "Professor Kirkland has admitted to you, your brother, and himself not being completely human."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

"Though he hasn't told me what you three are…I do know why you're really here." She leaned forward slightly on her desk. "Please…I know you're already aware, but Harry Potter is in _serious _danger."

Alfred nodded silently, his easy smile replaced by a neutral and weighted gaze that barely hinted at his true age.

"Though I hate to admit it, I can't know what he does at all times," McGonagall continued. "And I know his activities aren't always within school rules. So please…just _be_ there for him and his friends if something happens. "

Alfred's smile returned. "Harry's a good kid at heart, same goes for his friends. You can count on me, Professor."

McGonagall nodded, and suddenly her oddly vulnerable expression was gone, replaced by her default sternness. "But that does _not_ mean you get any free passes from homework or class, young man." She tapped her quill pen on the pile of essays in front of her for emphasis. "Now get to class, already!"

The blue-eyed Gryffindor gave a casual two-fingered salute. "Yes, Ma'am!" He turned on his heel and strode towards the exit. On his way out, he couldn't resist the parting shot, "_You're_ actually the young'un here, Professor!" He closed the door behind him, leaving Professor McGonagall to speculate.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter has been completed and submitted! Yaaaaaaay!<strong>

**Thanks to everyone who's shown their support so far! Leave a little review before you go? I'd like to know what you thought, because the likeliness of getting an honest opinion from my Mother on a fanfiction is _extremely_ unlikely.**


	30. Chapter 30

"Are you...a ghost?" Trelawney asked, completely out of the blue.

"No," Arthur sighed, "Otherwise you wouldn't be able to touch me, and I wouldn't be _trying_ to eat my breakfast."

"A disguised troll, perhaps?" Flitwick wondered, "I've heard of stranger things."

The green-eyed teacher resisted the urge to bang his head on the table and give up on today. Since he'd made it known that he wasn't human, some of the other professors have made it a game of sorts to try and guess at his true nature. Amusing at first, but after day one it just became annoying.

McGonagall offered an apologetic smile as she said, "I understand that you find it annoying-I would too, in your situation. I think this is just how they're coping with it."

Kirkland poked at his eggs with his fork sullenly. "Of course. Making light of something is usually the best way to deal with it, as I've often found." He put his fork down with a clatter, giving several others around him to stop and observe. He sighed again and continued, "Although I admit that I rather dislike all the attention I'm receiving for it."

"A vampire?" Lupin mused aloud.

Arthur shot a pointed look at the shabby professor. "Of course I'm not a..._Really_, Remus? You too?"

Lupin shrugged sheepishly. "Just professional curiosity. I'll stop if it bothers you."

The blond teacher gave a thankful nod and looked back down at his now cold breakfast. "I _did_ request that no one ask...I wish they'd cease this," he grumbled under his breath.

Snape, who'd heard this, gave a lightly mocking sneer. "But no one's 'asked'. They're simply guessing."

Kirkland discreetly sent a rude gesture in the severe teacher's direction as he picked up his fork again, intent on finishing his food no matter what.

"I believe Flitwick may be onto something," Dumbledore said, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. "What if he's a disguised _centaur_?"

Arthur facepalmed.

* * *

><p>Harry looked up at the teachers' table just in time to see Professor Kirkland facepalm, and Professor McGonagall stifle a bark of laughter. He wondered what on Earth they could be discussing that would make<em> McGonagall<em> of all people nearly _laugh_.

Alfred, sitting across from him, was covertly trying to poke brother's shoulder-the one farthest from him, so as to make it seem as if Neville, the person on Matthew's right, had actually done it. Matthew's expression clearly showed that he was aware of his brother's antics, but wasn't bothering to comment on it, going for an indifferent approach as he ate his pancakes in simulated peace.

Ron and Hermione are talking amiably again, thankfully. Harry felt as if things were finally relatively normal again. Well, except for one thing, of course.

Neville was facing utter disgrace, being the one who had accidentally left the week's passwords out for Sirius Black. McGonagall had actually banned poor Neville from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the passwords to enter Gryffindor Tower. Now he was forced to wait outside the Common Room every night for someone to come by and let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.

As the school owls glided into the Great Hall, it became clear that Neville's suffering was far from over. A huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in it's beak. Neville had just gotten the worst thing a student could receive over breakfast-a Howler.

Alfred stopped pestering his brother as his eyes widened slightly in recognition. "Um, Neville-dude?"

"Run for it," Ron advised.

Neville didn't need to be told twice as he leapt from his seat, seizing the evil letter and holding it before him like it was a bomb. He sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. The Howler could be heard to go off in the Entrance Hall. Neville's grandmother's voice echoed throughout both rooms, magically magnified to a hundred times it's usual volume, shrieking about how Neville had brought shame upon the whole family.

Harry picked at his food uncomfortably, feeling sorry for Neville.

"Poor kid just ain't catchin' a break, is he?" Alfred muttered quietly in Matthew's direction.

The Canadian shrugged and said, "Not lately, no. He mentioned to me that one of the security trolls has _really_ taken a disliking to him..."

Alfred frowned into his eggs a moment before saying quietly, "I'm going to start giving him the passwords...I don't feel right just leavin' him hanging like this."

"McGonagall will get you in trouble," Hermione warned, having heard Alfred's intentions.

"Are you going to tell on me?" Alfred inquired, peering at her closely.

Hermione hid behind her book a bit. "Of course not. I understand why...I personally don't agree with the Professor's sentiment in this instance either," she responded quietly.

Ron smiled at that. "Mates, I think we've finally corrupted her!"

Hermione shook her head with a small half-smile. "Whatever you say." She pushed her plate back and stood up. "Well, I need to be getting to class...I'll be seeing you all in...History of Magic, right?" With that, she departed.

"Why couldn't she have waited for us?" Ron wondered aloud. "That's our first class today!"

* * *

><p>Hermione dashed into the classroom just as Professor Kirkland stood up to take attendance. She joined them at a cluster of desks near the back of the room, her clothing looking disheveled and her bag filled with hastily filed papers. The Gryffindor girl sat down and whispered to them, "Sorry, I was in Ancient Runes...lost track of time...was nearly late..." she trailed off as Professor Kirkland walked by with a clipboard and a quill pen.<p>

"Harry's here...Ron's here...Matthew's here...Alfred is here, unfortunately..."

The American rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk.

Kirkland paused at Hermione's spot. "Oh, yes. Hermione, I'd like to speak with you after class..." He checked her name off and moved on to the next row.

"Oh, no! Did I forget an assignment?" Hermione fretted nervously. "I thought I'd completed everything..."

"You worry too much," Matthew said gently. "Knowing you, and knowing the Professor, I think he more want's to congratulate you or something along those lines.

Hermione subsided, but it was clear that she was still worrying. Kirkland's voice sounded out from the front of the classroom.

"Today," he said, "We are going to discuss..."

"God, I'm bored already," Alfred whispered into Harry's ear.

_"Shhh!"_ Hermione scolded, bringing a finger to her lips.

The professor swept his emerald eyes over the classroom. "I'm going to need a volunteer..."

Matthew yelped and shot a glare at his brother, who smirked and arched one eyebrow challengingly.

"No takers?" Kirkland asked surprisedly. "Then I'll just have to pick someone at random..."

Ron snickered as Alfred puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes, wiggling his fingers.

"Alfred, perfect!" Kirkland exclaimed, pointing. "Please come up to the front of the classroom."

The blond Gryffindor stared at Professor Kirkland a moment, before shrugging and making his way up to stand next to him.

"Now, please remove your jacket," the teacher instructed.

"Ah, er, what?" Alfred asked uncomprehendingly.

"Please," Kirkland repeated slowly, "Remove. Your Jacket." He sighed and pinched the ridge of his nose. "Come now, I know you love the thing but it's _really_ no big deal to not be wearing it for a little bit, right? What happened to all that bravado of yours?"

The class snickered, and the American scowled lightly as he did what Professor Kirkland asked.

"You see," Kirkland lectured, "Alfred has several symbols on his clothing that represent or were present for important moments in history. These moments were emotionally charged, and their impact left a mark upon us all, wether we know it or not." He help out his hand to Alfred expectantly. "We'll start with your jacket."

Alfred hesitated for a split second before he relinquished his beloved bomber jacket to the professor. Kirkland held it up to show the class. "This is a muggle American Air Force bomber jacket- a relic from World War two. See this star on the front? Watch." He touched the tip of his wand on the symbol and slowly pulled away, a trail of gold sparkles following the wand. He made a flicking motion directed at the ceiling, and the sparkles swirled upwards and exploded into a sepia-colored mini flight pattern of old fashioned WWII-era bombers that flew across the room-complete with sound effects, right over the students' heads before fading away.

The class applauded, and Alfred looked at the article of clothing in wonder. "I didn't know my jacket could do that..."

"Indeed," Kirkland said with a smile. "I actually created this little trick myself, and it's a good way to learn your history. Just touch your wand to the symbol and concentrate. The magic will sort of 'catch' on the tip of your wand. Then draw it out and flick it up in the air. Depending on the symbol, is depending on what you'll see." He tossed the jacket back to Alfred, "Now back to your seat, Alfred."

The rest of the class was spent with Professor Kirkland teaching the class how to do this with the House crests on their robes. By the end of the hour, one could see fierce golden lions rampaging across the room. They would jump at the nearest student with a loud roar as if pouncing, and explode into a shower of red sparkles.

"Imagine how we could scare the Slytherins with this," Ron said deviously. "Summoning lions out of nowhere-watching them wet their pants!"

"The family resemblance between you and your brothers is showing," Matthew said with a tired smile.

"What're you talking about?" Ron asked, a suitably exaggerated look of horror on his face. "I am not-and _will_ _not ever_, be like my brother Percy. Ever."

"I meant Fred and George," the Canadian laughed in response. "That sounds like something they'd do."

Harry shook his head. "No, he'd need a twin for that. Then we'd all be in trouble. It's hard enough with two sets of twins!"

"Double the Ron-ness!" Alfred exclaimed excitedly. "Then we could, like, _totally_ make a superhero team with all the twins in the school!" He stopped and swept his hand in an arc through the air as he said, "'The Sextuplet Double Trio'!"

Ron stopped and looked at him oddly, before shaking his head and moving on ahead. "I don't understand you sometimes, Alfred. Is this the same with all Americans, I wonder?"

"Ye-well-Not really. I'm just _extra_-American," Alfred answered with a boisterous laugh that echoed down the halls. "You've all been blessed with my presence by a divine power, so that I could bring joy to your lives-_and_ so that I could finally bring _'The Sextuplet Double Trio'_ together!"

"Ignore him," Matthew advised. "When he gets like this, no one really understands him."

Alfred looked at his brother in a comic expression of having been betrayed. "I'm right here..." he pouted. His eyes grew wide, "YOU'RE ONE OF _THEM_! EVERYONE RUN FOR YOUR LIVES OR HE WILL EAT YOUR BRAIN JUICE THROUGH YOUR NOSE AND EARS!" Before anyone could say or do anything, the American dashed off down the hall, yelling incoherently.

Matthew watched the retreating form of his brother with something akin to amusement mixed with mortification. "Like I said. When he gets like this, _no one_ understands him."

"How often does this happen?" Harry asked worriedly. "Alfred never stuck me as being absolutely nutters _before_...should I be afraid for my safety tonight?"

"_Probably_ not," Matthew answered, an enigmatic smile tugging at his lips.

"That does _not_ make me feel any better," Ron grumbled.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Jones," Snape said in a dangerously low voice. "There best be a <em>very good reason<em> for jumping up on my desk."

"Huh?" Alfred asked, turning around like he'd just noticed Snape's presence. "Oh. Hey, prof! I was just trying to get a better view of the class-I have to make sure that there's no shape-shifting reptoids in here..."

"A..._what_?" Snape demanded, standing up from his chair and coming around to face the boy.

"A shape-shifting reptoid," the blond Gryffindor repeated calmly. He casually jumped off of the teacher's desk, craning his neck up to look at the severe professor. "But don't worry! I don't think they've infiltrated Hogwarts yet."

Snape arched one black eyebrow as he glared down at the boy. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor," he stated cooly. "See me after class so that we may...discuss further punishment."

Alfred shrugged and returned to his seat. As he did so, Harry poked at Matthew covertly and pointed out the crazed look in Alfred's eye-eerily similar to one he'd seen on Matthew in the kitchen earlier that the year.

Matthew gave a reassuring smile that seemed rather forced, and returned to his papers.

* * *

><p>After class, Alfred was just outside the classroom, staring at the ground, unmoving. Matthew sighed and walked up to his brother. He bodily shook him by the shoulders. "Alfred! Snap out of it <em>right now<em>." He punctuated this by slapping his brother hard on the cheek.

Alfred finally looked up at Matthew with a rather confused expression, the odd gleam in his eye gone. "I-I'm sorry? What? Weren't we going to Potions-wait, we already did...I think. Maybe. Reptoids...Damn it, I did it again, didn't I?"

_"Again?!"_ Ron voiced in the background.

"Yes," Matthew sighed, ignoring Ron for the moment. "Yes you did. Long-story-short, you started by saying something about a superhero team, and then you claimed I was 'one of them' and that I was going to eat peoples' brains. After that, you ran down the hall screaming. You spent Potions class glaring at a specific bookshelf, jumping on the teacher's desk, and sniffing your lab partner's inkwell."

Alfred winced and rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Oh...how much trouble am I in?"

"You lost us fifteen House Points," Ron grumbled.

"And he wanted to speak with you after class," Harry added.

"Damn," Alfred said again. He turned around and began to trudge back towards Snape's door. "I'll be back, hopefully. If you don't see me at lunch then I'm probably dead." He disappeared into the classroom.

"How often should we expect this?" Ron asked. "_You've_ gone mad over pancakes. _He_ went mad over...whatever that was..." He stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of it all.

"I don't think it will happen again this school year," Matthew said. "At least, I hope not. It can randomly pop up at the worst times."

The trio fell silent as they walked up the dungeon stairs. "At least he didn't decide to throw things this time," Matthew finally said, breaking the silence.

"What's so bad about that?" Harry asked. "_You_ tried to kill us with a knife, and your brother with a spatula."

Matthew grimaced as if remembering something unpleasant. "You've seen him carry things. Lat time he threw a tree, two cars, and a park bench. Not to mention the fact that he _aims_."

"Aims?" Ron asked fearfully. "As in, at people?"

Matthew studied his feet as they walked. "It shouldn't happen again this year, if my math is correct," he said, seeming to try and reassure himself more than Ron. "It'll be fine..."

Harry raised an eyebrow, deciding not to comment. Good thing these two were on _their_ side.

* * *

><p>"Professor," Alfred said as he stood before the teacher's desk. "I admit to being out of line. It was just...an issue I have, sometimes. It kinda popped up between classes and..."<p>

Snape leaned back, connecting his fingertips. "Was this...something to do with your ah..._nature_? I noticed you becoming disturbingly reclusive after your initial ridiculousness passed."

Alfred regarded the teacher for a few seconds. He then remembered that it was now known among the staff that he was not all that he seemed. He nodded slowly. "Yeah-"

"And will it happen again?" Snape interrupted.

Alfred quickly shook his head. "No, definitely not."

Snape closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. "As much as I hate to say this...I cannot give you detention for something you couldn't help."

Alfred raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Um, sir?" he asked uncomprehendingly. Was Snape actually being _nice_?

The black-clad professor scowled at the Gryffindor boy. "I am not so heartless as I seem, Mister Jones. My demeanor simply what happens to a person after years and years of dealing with complete idiots."

The American said nothing in response.

"Not to mention the fact that I have been instructed to allow for certain incidents because of your _'mission'_," Snape continued sourly. "I don't know what agency you're working for, or why it was decided that Potter needed _more_ protection." His scowl deepened further as he said, "But Dumbledore has decided to trust you for now, seeing that your interests align with ours."

Alfred idly wondered what he meant exactly when he said, 'our'.

Snape leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk and somehow making the action look menacing. "But keep this in mind, _boy_. I do not trust you. If you ever give me reason to believe that you would harm Harry Potter-or _anyone_ at this school for that matter, I swear that I will _personally_ make sure that you regret it. The same goes for your brother, _and_ your mentor."

Alfred bristled. He did not appreciate being threatened _at_ _all_. It was among his worst pet peeves. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "It won't come to that, I made a promise-and I intend to keep it. Though I'd advise that you not swear to something that you cannot accomplish, _human_."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room, not bothering to look back.

* * *

><p>"Good to see you made it, Alfred," Lupin said, accustomed to Gryffindor students being late because of Potions class. "Snape keep you back? I do hope he wasn't<em> too<em> harsh...Please sit down and do the questions from page 273. It's a review lesson, so you aren't missing anything."

"'Kay prof, dude," Alfred said happily. He sat down between Hermione and Matthew, trying to get answers off of them.

"No, Alfred," Hermione scolded. "You can't borrow my paper!"

"But you're already _fin-ished_," Alfred whined petulantly. "Pretty, pretty, please?"

"No," the bushy-haired girl said irritatedly. "Do your own work. This is your best class, anyways. You shouldn't have a problem."

Alfred huffed and stretched his arms over his head languidly. "Bookwork is totally un-American. Mattie-bro. Can I borrow your paper?"

The Canadian didn't even look up as he shook his head, his quill pen busily traveling across his parchment.

"Please?" Alfred begged.

"No," Matthew answered, his violet eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"But Maaaaatiiiiieeeeeee-"

"Shush, Alfred," the Canadian chided. "You'll get me in trouble-!"

"Could I speak to you briefly after class, Matthew?" Lupin asked from across the room.

Matthew banged his head against his desk. "_Thanks_, Al. Remind me to repay you for this later."

Alfred put a hand on his chin contemplatively. "Ahhhh, how about no?"

The rest of the class was spent in relative peace, since Alfred had found it prudent to keep to himself and stop pestering his brother. When Alfred somehow knocked his head hard against a wall on his way out, Harry caught the Canadian's smirk as he put his wand away. He _did_ get his revenge, then.

Harry started to leave, but something made him pause. He didn't know why, but he felt like he should stick around for this conversation. So, trusting his gut, he hid behind a pillar while the initial mill of students filed out of the classroom so as not to be observed.

"Professor Lupin?" Matthew asked, his voice betraying nervousness. "I wasn't trying to be off task, I swear. It was just my brother-"

"Oh, I don't care about all that," Lupin said easily. "He actually reminds me a little bit of a friend I once had in Hogwarts...but that's beside the point." He away from his desk. "I was simply wondering about wether you intended to go on the Hogsmeade trip that's coming up this weekend?"

"I don't know, sir," the Canadian answered with a shrug. "It depends on my mood, really."

"Oh?" Lupin asked. "You _do_ know that they've increased the number of Dementors patrolling the area, right? I know that you and your brother react the worst to them out of the student body..."

Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "I did not know that..." He paused and regarded the teacher almost suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this? Do you..._not_ want me to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"Aha, caught on to that pretty quick, didn't you?" Lupin said calmly. He gave Matthew a searching look. "Harry can't go to Hogsmeade, as you know. He has no permission slip. Even if he did, though, I don't think Dumbledore's allow him out, given recent events."

"Understandable, I suppose," Matthew answered carefully.

"But in the same token," Lupin continued, "The castle will be nearly empty, with him free to wander the vacant and shadowed halls as he chooses. That also makes an easy target for...any who might come to harm him."

"Sirius Black," Matthew said. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Indeed," Lupin said. "Now I can't really force you to stay or go. It's just a suggestion. It'd be good for _all of us_ if he remained alive and well, yes?"

Matthew said nothing, but nodded. Harry couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. Professor Lupin, his favorite Professor this year, is enlisting _Matthew_, one of his friends, to protect him? He appreciated the concern, but he wasn't a glass figurine to be held in a display case! And of course Matthew, being the good and helpful person he is, would agree.

"I'm glad we had this talk, Matthew," Lupin said. "Now let us go-you have a class to go to, and I have a bathroom to use down the hall. Let us part ways for now." They shook hands and exited the room.

Harry stayed in his spot for a full minute. He felt a mixture of emotions. He felt sad, betrayed, confused, suspicious, angry...a whole mess of emotions. But something else about their exchange bothered him. Why did they shake hands? That's what adults, or peers do. It's not something you'd usually expect to see in a  
>teacher-student dynamic.<p>

He figured that he should leave before Lupin came back. Perhaps he could confront Matthew about it in class later? Or at dinner?

Either way, he wanted an answer.

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaaaay! I finished another chapter thingy-ma-jig! I am taking advantage of my sick-day from school! And look at that, Snape DOES have a heart. He just hides it really, really well.<strong>

**Thank you all _so_ much for the favs, follows, and reviews. What'cha thinkin' about this chapter/story so far?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	31. Chapter 31

Harry didn't get to speak with Matthew until dinner. Classes had been too busy, and Wood had pulled him aside to discuss further strategy for the Quidditch Finals, which had taken nearly an hour of his free time. But even now, with Matthew sitting directly across from him, he found he was having trouble getting a word in edgewise.

"Duuuuuuuude," Alfred moaned, clutching his forehead. "I've been knocking into walls an' tables an' pillars an' shit _all_ day...and I swear to God that it isn't my fault...I think someone cursed me!" He shot a pointed look at his twin. "And I'm not sure who it was...I just need an counter-curse from this asshat-whomever the Canadian might be-and then I can move on with my life!"

Matthew shrugged nonchalantly. "I hope you find the culprit soon, Alfred. Although I'm willing to bet that you deserved it."

Right at that moment, Alfred's head whipped forward and hit the table. "Ooooow!...I did _not_ deserve this!" he insisted irritatedly. "I have, like, a 'Frisco 1906 sized headache right now."

"Nothing I can do about that," Matthew said mercilessly.

"Yes you can!" Alfred insisted. "Give me the-_OUCH_!" His head slammed into the table again. This time, he didn't sit up again. He'd passed out.

"You really _should_ give him the counter-curse," Hermione said, not even looking up from her book.

"Before bed," Matthew answered. "Maybe. If I feel like being a good brother. But if he wakes up and starts complaining again, it's doubtful."

The group lapsed into silence, and Harry decided to finally spring the question. "Hey, Matthew," he said, surprising himself at how casual he sounded. "What'd Lupin want to talk to you about, anyway?"

The violet-eyed Gryffindor shrugged. "Oh, he just wanted to warn me that there were more Dementors at Hogsmeade this time around-since my brother and I react so badly to them."

"Are you going?" Harry pressed. He wanted to know if Matthew would actually do as Lupin asked.

"Only if Alfred is," the Canadian responded smoothly, gesturing to his unconscious brother with a vague gesture.

Harry cursed inwardly. He couldn't know for sure, now. It's possible that Matthew's intentions were completely pure, but it's also possible that he's just really, really good at manipulating conversation. He studied Matthew intently, searching for any sign of falseness or secrecy, but no. Those endless violet eyes betrayed nothing.

"Are you going?" Matthew asked curiously.

Harry paused at this. Was he going? He _did_ resent the fact that the professors were being too over-protective of him. And Filch hadn't done anything to the passage behind the one-eyed witch statue...

Hermione snapped her book shut and sent a pleading gaze his way. "_Please_ don't do it, Harry," she begged. "If you do..." she paused and bit her lip. "I'll tell McGonagall about that map!"

Ron scowled darkly. "Are you trying to get Harry expelled?!" he demanded furiously. "Haven't we fought enough this year?!"

"Don't you remember what Sirius Black nearly _did_ to you, Ronald?!" Hermione asked almost frantically. "I can't believe you'd go through with this! How much of an idiot _are_ you?!"

"Sirius Black has gotten into the castle multiple times already," Matthew observed quietly into the silence. "In the end, _nowhere_ is safe for Harry. He's taking almost as much risk here as he is out there simply by being alone in the castle."

Harry was careful not to show his surprise. This wasn't going in Lupin's direction at _all_. Maybe he'd been too quick to judge Matthew.

Hermione thought about it, and sighed. "You...you have a point, but..." She reared on Harry. "You still shouldn't go!" With that, she shoved he book in her bag and practically stormed out of the Great Hall.

The moment she was out of earshot, Harry leaned in close. "Okay, I'll go. But I'm bringing the Invisibility Cloak this time."

* * *

><p>That Saturday, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket, and joined everyone else for breakfast. Hermione kept sending suspicious looks his way, but he made sure never to quite meet her eyes or give anything away. Alfred was jumping up and down in his seat from excitement, going on about what he was going to do and buy when he got to Hogsmeade. This meant that Matthew was going, then.<p>

As the students gathered in the Entrance Hall to leave, though, Alfred could be seen patting his pockets frantically. "Aw, _shit_. I forgot my money...I can't get awesome magic prank stuff without money..."

The Filch was already counting heads to be sure everyone was present. It was clear that Alfred didn't have time to get to the common room and back without missing out.

Ron looked around to make sure Hermione wasn't around. "Well...come with Harry then. You can meet us there."

"Alright," the American said cheerfully. "I'll go ahead of you, Harry-avoid arousing suspicion." With that, he somehow melted into the crowd and disappeared.

Ron looked at the now empty space where Alfred had just stood in mild wonder. "How'd he do that?"

"He can be sneaky when he wants to," Matthew answered with a shrug.

A while later, as they were heading out, Harry was sure to have Hermione actually see him walking backup the marble staircase as if he were going back to the Common Room. In actuality, he hurried up to the third floor. He crouched behind the one-eyed witch and spread the Marauder's Map before him. He noticed two tiny dots coming his way. One, was Neville Longbottom, but he passed by without noticing Harry, apparently to preoccupied with his own thoughts.

The second dot, though, was odd. It was like it couldn't decide on a single name. It just kept rewriting itself.

_Jason Sm-_

_Frank Mil-_

_Madison Tayl-_

_Jerry Ande-_

_Sarah Jacks-_

Harry braced himself to meet whatever it was coming down the hallway. His hand strayed towards his wand as it turned the corner and-

"'Sup dude!" Alfred greeted cheerfully. "I got the dough, so lets do this thing!" He shook the sack of coins for emphasis.

Harry stared at Alfred for a moment, and then looked at the map again. There was his dot, _Harry J. Potter_, but Alfred's dot still couldn't make up it's mind.

_Hannah Gre-_

_Kenneth Sco-_

_Emma Wrigh-_

Harry looked back up at Alfred in utter confusion. Was something wrong with the map, or Alfred?

The blue-eyed Gryffindor gave Harry a slightly worried look. "Dude, what's with the weird face? Somethin' wrong?"

Harry shook his head and folded the map after wiping it blank. "Er, no...nothing's wrong..." He shook his head slightly and turned to face the one-eyed witch statue.

He reached for the hump, preparing to open it, when Alfred poked him discreetly in the arm. "Snape, three o'clock."

They stepped away from the statue. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and Alfred casually leaned against the wall. "So dude, I was thinkin'..."

Snape came up behind them, and Harry carefully cultured his face into one of near indifference. Alfred's face remained open and smiling.

"And what are you two doing here?" Snape asked with a sneer, looking from one boy to the other. "An odd place to meet..."

Harry was a bit nervous to see Snape's black eyes flick to the the doorways on either side of them, and then to the one-eyed witch.  
>"We're not...meeting here," Harry said carefully. "We just...met here."<p>

"Indeed?" Snape asked raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "You both have the habit of turning up in the most unexpected places, Potter, Jones, and rarely without a reason...I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower, where you belong."

"Last I checked, this place wasn't off limits," Alfred challenged. His tone turned curious as he said, "Is there a _reason_ you want us away from here?"

Snape scowled at him. "Is that any of your business?"

"Yes, actually," Alfred stated matter-of-factly. "It is, if _you're_ asking _us_ to move."

Snape became absolutely still as they both seemed to stare each other down.

"Do we really need to do this?" Alfred asked quietly. "I've got him."

Snape blinked, regarded Alfred for a moment more, turned on his heel, and swept down the hall without another word. Harry stared at the retreating Potion Master's form in complete awe. "How did you..."

"He and I had a little heart-to-heart," Alfred answered mysteriously.

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "A heart-to heart, you say? Sounds a bit unbelievable to me...I mean, he took a disliking to me for absolutely no reason during my first year. He's not exactly an understanding type, either."

"There _may_ be an underlying cause for him bein' such a dick to you," Alfred said. "But we'll probably never know." He punctuated this with a shrug.

Harry shook his head and opened the one-eyed witch statue's hump. They slid down the chute, put on the invisibility cloak, and went in the direction of the Honeydukes cellar, and Hogsmeade.

* * *

><p>"What took you so long?" Ron demanded.<p>

"Snape showed up," Alfred supplied, slipping out of the cloak as casually as possible. Somehow, no one noticed.

"You didn't antagonize him too much, did you, Al?" Matthew asked pensively.

Alfred waved off his concerns. "Oh, no worries. Our relations are still a bit rocky, but we've nearly reached an understanding of sorts."

"I _still_ don't know how you got away with that," Harry murmured quietly from under the cloak, causing Ron to jump.

"Get away with what?" Ron asked curiously.

Alfred filled them in as they headed up High Street. Ron was constantly making sure that Harry was still there with things like, 'Where are you?' or 'Are you still there?'. The entire situation was rather awkward.

They went into the post office, and Ron pretended to check the price of getting an owl to Egypt for his family member, Bill. As Harry marveled at the sheer amount of owls of all shapes, sizes, colors, and uses, he idly noticed that Alfred had disappeared at some point, along with his brother.

After they left the post office, Ron noticed the twins' absence as well. "Maybe we'll find them at Zonko's," Ron suggested. "Either way, they can take care of themselves just fine."

So, they visited the joke shop, not finding hide nor hair of Alfred and Matthew, but instead finding a treasure trove of jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred and George's wildest dreams. Harry would give Ron whispered orders and pass some gold from under the cloak. It was rather tricky because it was so crowded in the store, and Harry had to be careful not to tread on or bump into anyone for fear of causing a panic.

But in the end, they left Zonko's joke shop with significantly lighter money bags and significantly heavier pockets for all the fun toys and tricks they'd gotten.

The sun was shining, and there was a light breeze, making it an all-around good day to be outside. So, they passed up the Three broomsticks and climbed up a relatively steep slope to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted place in Britain. It stood a ways above the rest of the village, and even in the day it cast rather creepy and menacing shadows, with it's boarded up windows and dank overgrown garden.

"Nearly Headless Nick said that even Hogwarts ghosts avoid it," Ron said in a hushed tone, as if afraid of waking the spirits within the shack. "Says it's supposed to be a rough crowd in there. No one can get in-Fred and George tried it, of course-but all the entrances are sealed shut..."

Harry was just considering taking off the Invisibility Cloak when they heard voices nearby. Someone was climbing towards the house from the other side of the hill. A few moments more revealed that it was none other than Draco Malfoy, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle.

"...I should have an owl from Father any time now. That Professor Kirkland got the ruddy bird off scott-free! He pulled rank on us-halted the investigation with the idea of returning it to North America! Even after he told them about my arm...and how I couldn't use it for three months."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered at that.

"But I'll get back at him," the Slytherin boy vowed darkly. "I'm just waiting for word from my Father-then I can build a case against Jones and Williams for harassment-and Kirkland as well, I hear he isn't even _human_! Surely my father's found _something_ on them by now...Maybe after all that, I'll just have a hunter sent over to North America to take care of that damn-"

Malfoy stopped when he caught sight of Ron. His pale face split into a malevolent grin.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" He looked up at the crumbling house behind Ron. "Suppose you're just looking at your dream home, Weasley? Dreaming about having your own bedroom? I heard your family all sleep in one room-is that true?"

Harry covertly tugged Ron's robes to hold him back. "I'll take care of this," he hissed in Ron's ear.

The opportunity was absolutely perfect. He crept around behind the trio of Slytherins, making his way towards a nice patch of mud on the path...

"We were just discussing those friends of yours," Malfoy said to Ron. "I wonder if Williams will cry when he watches his mentor get fired-"

_'SPLAT!'_

Malfoy staggered back as the mud hit him, his silvery hair suddenly soiled.

"What the-?"

Ron was laughing so hard that he had to hold the fence to keep himself standing. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle spun around wildly, trying to find the source of the projectile.

"What was that?" Malfoy demanded angrily. "Who did that?!"

"It _is_ haunted up here, you know," Ron commented with the air of one discussing the weather.

Crabbe and Goyle were absolutely terrified. Their bulging muscles were no use against ghosts. Malfoy was staring madly around at the deserted landscape.

Harry snuck along the path, straightening when he heard the crunch of two pairs f footsteps coming up the path.

"Naw, see the Hulk would _totally_ beat Wolverine," came a familiar American drawl, echoing up the path.

"But the Hulk just has brawn, Wolverine could outsmart him-get him stuck in a crevasse, or something," Matthew responded, their forms becoming more visible as they approached.

"But he's the _Hulk_," Alfred insisted. "He'd just get angrier, and, you know, break the crevasse."

Harry stood aside silently as they got in view of the scene before them. Crabbe and Goyle, spinning around in what seemed to be their best fish-ballerina impressions, and Malfoy, who's eyes darted left and right nervously as he tossed random insults in Ron's direction. Of course, Ron was too busy laughing to take offense.

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the sight of them, and Matthew gripped his shoulder. "Don't get us in trouble," he warned quietly. "We _don't _need the scrutiny it would bring."

The American shrugged off his hand and cracked his knuckles. "I won't, I won't. A few bruises, at the most. And that's if they don't just run away first..."

Harry wondered what he should do. On one hand, he _really_ didn't like Malfoy. On the other hand, Alfred _really_ didn't like Malfoy either. Not to mention the American's short temper when it came to certain things...like Malfoy's presence. Harry walked closer to the scene, nearly stepping in a puddle of sloppy, foul-smelling, green sludge. He studied the disgusting substance for a moment, and struck upon an idea.

* * *

><p>"How could you be <em>laughing<em> at a time like this?!" Malfoy demanded frantically as Ron laughed. "I'm being assaulted by bloody ghosts and you're just standing there, laughing like a damn _idiot_-"

Ron abruptly stopped laughing as he noticed the figure now looming behind the pale Slytherin boy. He sidled back a bit, deciding to just let this one run it's course.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at this sudden change in demeanor. "What is it?..." He felt a presence behind him, turned around, and let out a small squeak of surprise and slight fear. "W-what are _you_ doing here, Jones?" he asked, going for bravado yet utterly failing.

"Heard you talkin' shit," Alfred answered cooly. He cocked his head sharply, the light reflecting off of his glasses and hiding his eyes. "You know...I really didn't want to see you again, or hear your voice again...ever."

Malfoy audibly gulped and took a step back, but he refused to back down completely. "N-now I have no business with you, Yankee. Now piss off!"

"Ronald Weasley, is my friend," Alfred stated flatly, gripping the Slytherin boy's head and gave it a tight squeeze, causing Malfoy to gasp slightly. "Hermione Granger, is my friend." He squeezed again. "Harry Potter, is my friend." Another squeeze, harder, if the cry of pain was anything to go by. "Matthew Williams..." he gave an edged smile, and pressed downwards sharply, causing Malfoy to cry out and crumple to the ground in a heap. "...is my brother. You'd do well to remember that, kid."

A few long moments of utter stillness passed, Crabbe and Goyle having long fled the scene. Malfoy finally staggered to his feet. "You...you're insane," he said at a near whisper. "Completely, and utterly...insane."

_'SPLATTER!'_

Malfoy spun in the general direction of the mud's path, wiping his face. He looked around frantically, seeming to be deciding between ghosts and Alfred. In the end, he picked ghosts. He ran off down the path, and pitched forward as he was tripped by something. His foot caught on something, and Harry's face slid into view, floating in midair.

Malfoy stared for a moment before yelling something incoherent and pointing at Harry's head. He turned tail and ran, at breakneck speed, back down the hill.

Harry tugged up the cloak again, but the damage was done.

"Harry!" Ron said, stumbling forward and staring hopelessly at the point where Harry had disappeared. "You'd better run for it! If Malfoy tells anyone..."

"Get back to the castle, Harry!" Matthew said, joining the trio at the top of the hill. "I saw Malfoy run by, he's headed for the castle _right now_!"

Harry needed no more encouragement. "See you all later!" Harry called, tearing down the path towards Hogsmeade.

* * *

><p><strong>Run Harry! Run like an Italian! Ah, this chapter was a true joy to write...am I a bad person for saying that I enjoy having Alfred deliver a well deserved beat down? It's <em>so<em> much fun.**

**Thanks for all the support this story's gotten so far. Please leave a review in the Review Jar? It's kinda empty at the moment because I keep spending them(reading them).**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	32. Chapter 32

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to ward off the coming headache. Everyone else was probably busy having fun at Hogsmeade, and she hasn't seen harry when she checked the Common room last, so he was probably there as well-despite her threat to inform about the map. But she just didn't have the time to care. She took solace in the fact that he wouldn't be alone, and was probably safer for it. She'd scold him for it later, if she could. Right now though, she had _so_ much homework left to do...But something was bothering her-making it nearly impossible to focus on her Muggle Studies essay or her Arithmancy review packet.

Nations. She couldn't get the idea out of her head! And it didn't help that Alfred, Matthew, and Professor Kirkland were doing no better in covering their tracks...if they even were Nations, of course. It was still all the more likely that she was wrong, and that she was simply going mad from all the pressure of meeting every single one of her deadlines. She really didn't have time for any foolishness or side projects!

And yet...she'd renewed the book that first told her of Nations, and she's somehow found time to do more research on their existence, and the legends surrounding them. The deeper she dug, the more suspicious the circumstances surrounding them became.

For example, in 1876, there was a scandalous blackmail case in the muggle world. A Lord Boulstridge had proclaimed, publicly, that he would expose Sir Kirkland (again, can the name a coincidence?) as the "unearthly monster" he was, unless Boulstridge received an ungodly amount of money, claiming that it was owed to him because Kirkland was supposed to have stolen the same amount from his family on a pirate raid three centuries before. Sir Kirkland surfaced, seemingly from nowhere, so that he could refute his claim-saying that his family never had any connection to pirates or privateers-, and to have the man thrown in Bedlam because he claimed to fear for his life as long as the lunatic was free.

After that, he disappeared again, leaving only a hinted reference in the back of some musty, moth-eaten book Hermione'd found with a faded stamp inside the cover that read, 'Diogenes Club'. She'd even researched the name on the stamp, and found nothing.

Hermione'd found another thing of interest from an old Chicago newspaper dated at 1931, during the Prohibition in the United States. A daring bootlegger going by the name of 'Al' (another coincidence?), having been seen all over the country, from ports to moonshine stills to speakeasies, had finally been shot hundreds of times with a tommy gun from a rival gang in the area. Despite all of this, he somehow still managed to pick up two extremely heavy and rather sizable crates of alcohol-one in each hand-and disappear down an alleyway.

The Gryffindor girl sifted through her papers tiredly. True, she'd found plenty of evidence to suggest the evidence of Nations. But she had yet to actually _hear_ a confession from Alfred, Matthew, or Professor Kirkland. Without that, all of this was pretty much useless to her. Every time she asked them about their origins or past, they'd exchange a significant look, and Alfred would give an explanation that was always rather farfetched, but plausible enough for her not to be able to question it. That in itself was suspicious, but still hardly proof.

She was seriously considering giving up on her investigations. She still hadn't done the Charms worksheet that was about to be due...She couldn't afford to fall behind. McGonagall trusted her with the timeturner because Hermione felt she could do with the extra classes, and she didn't want to let McGonagall down. And other professors were starting to wonder if she could actually handle it-she'd heard them talking. Many felt she was overworking herself. So it was up to her to prove them wrong.

But there's been other talk among the professors as well. Talk about a certain Professor Kirkland...and how he wasn't actually human. Now _that_ peaked Hermione's interest. It's also the reason she hadn't given up yet. She recalled her own conversation with the suspicious professor a while back.

_Hermione resisted the urge to gulp nervously as she approached the front of the room, where Kirkland sat at his desk, reading something with a frown of concentration. She politely waited for him to finish._

_"Bloody frog..." he muttered quietly as he ripped up the paper in disgust. "That pervert can shove-" He stopped and looked up in mild surprise, finally noticing the girl's presence. "Miss Granger...please ignore anything I said there. I just recieved a letter that rather ah, tries my patience." He offered a small yet pleasant smile. "Don't worry, you aren't in trouble. I just wanted to speak with you about the interesting topic you picked for the essay on the origin of myths I'd assigned..." He shifted the papers cluttering his desk, searching for it._

_Hermione read the neatly penned title. 'The Possibility of Nations-Origin of a Myth' She remembered it, though only vaguely. It was just one essay of many, and she couldn't afford to dwell on just one. She needed to choose a myth to discuss, and decided on something she'd already looked into, since she hardly had time to research a new one so thoroughly. It never even occurred to her that _Kirkland_ was the one who'd assigned it._

_"I wanted to pick something a bit lesser known," Hermione said. "Common myths are argued about so fiercely already..."_

_Kirkland nodded. "I understand, and I applaud you for such insight and thoughtfulness on your subject matter. I was just wondering..." He paused and_ adjusted himself in his seat._ "What made you choose Nations? I haven't heard that one in _years_. Did you find it in a book?"_

_"Yes, it was in the Library...I ran across it and opened it out of curiosity, it was the first thing under the 'N' category...I wanted to do something less mainstream for this," Hermione answered carefully. She didn't want to give away _too_ much information._

_"Interesting..." Kirkland mused. "What was this book called?"_

_"Er..." Hermione said, "I um...I actually don't remember Professor. Life's been busy lately."_

_"I see..." the bushy-browed professor said quietly. He frowned at his desk for a moment, and the mildly pleasant expression returned. "That's another thing I wished to talk to you about, Miss Granger." He paused, as if thinking of how to put his words. "I noticed that you have many classes, more than would be actually possible if you weren't ah..._making_ time for the extra classes."_

_Hermione's hand strayed towards the timeturner around her neck. "I...I assure you that I can handle it, Professor...I haven't missed any assignments yet."_

_"Of course you can handle it," Kirkland assured. "I'm not saying that you aren't capable. You've maintained top student status in my class, despite everything. And my peers are always singing praises about you. I simply wish to warn you about something that happens with those who use timeturners too much."_

_Hermione cocked her head. "There's a side affect? I never heard anything about that."_

_"Not a side effect _per se_," the Professor said softly, his green eyes distant. "Just something I've observed after knowing several people who used them overmuch." _

_Hermione was silent, waiting._

_"You're using this because you don't have enough time in a day to get to all of your classes," Kirkland stated. He got up from his seat and began to pace."You've been jumping around-go to your first hour, then yourewind the hour so that you can go to your next class, jumping into second hour, when it's actually you third, rewinding again so that you can go to your fourth that takes place in third. Go to lunch, rewind lunch to study at the Library...continue until you retire to your Common Room for the evening, where you study some more and go to bed somewhere around midnight. Wake up, and repeat, and all the while making sure your friends don't end up seeing two of you." He stopped and settled a weighted gaze on the Gryffindor girl. "Am I correct?"_

_"Yes," Hermione answered, shifting uncomfortably. "That is the general schedule I've had lately."_

_Kirkland's brow furrowed in slight worry. "Right...well, you're not just overworking yourself, you're frequently interrupting the proper flow of time around you, making your mind even more frazzled than it already is as you juggle homework, friends, food, sleep, and your very awareness of time."_

_"Professor...?" Hermione asked hesitantly. _

_Kirkland faced her fully. "Your'e slowly driving yourself insane," he said bluntly. "If you continue for much longer I fear that...well, that _particular_ brand of insanity is rather unpredictable and erratic. But it always ends in someone getting hurt."_

_Hermione looked down at her shoes, saying nothing._

_Kirkland sighed and put a firm hand on each of her shoulder, and the Gryffindor girl somehow felt calmer and almost nostalgic. "Don't worry yourself too much over it-that'll speed the process. Just...be careful, and don't lose yourself to this. Extra class credits are _not_ worth you losing such a brilliant mind."_

_Hermione nodded, "Thank you professor, for warning me...I'll have to think on your words before I make any decisions though...and I'll consult Professor McGonagall about my class schedule if it gets to be too much."_

_Kirkland nodded relievedly and released her shoulders. "Well then, since we have that out of the way...you have a class to get to, I believe?"_

_The bushy-haired girl's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, no...I'll miss Muggle Studies-I need to go...thank you, sir!" She turned around and fled the room, already drawing out the small golden pendant around her neck. Two rotations should get her there on time..._

Hermione somehow found the energy to smile. Even if Kirkland wasn't all he seemed to be, he was still a good man. So understanding and kind...it filled her with pride for some reason.

She looked down at her mounds of homework again. That didn't change the fact that she _really_ needed to get this done...

* * *

><p>Harry hoped he could get back in time. What if Malfoy was at the castle already? How long would it take him to find a teacher? These questions swirled around in Harry's mind as he ducked into the Honeydukes cellar and dashed down the dark passageway. He hid his cloak in a shadowy corner, knowing it would be a dead giveaway if Malfoy'd already tipped off a teacher. He climbed up the stone slide, as fast as he could, his sweaty hands slipping on the sides of the chute. He reached the inside of the witch's hump, tapped it with his wand, and hoisted himself out.<p>

He walked off in a random direction, cleaning the mud off of his hands with the inside of his robes. Just as he was wiping the sweat off his brow, thinking he'd gotten away, he heard quick footsteps approaching.

None other than Severus Snape bore down upon him, a look of suppressed triumph written upon his face. Harry did his best to look innocent, glad that he'd been able to wipe most of the mud off of his hands, but worried about the evident shine of sweat still beading on his forehead.

"Come with me, Potter," said Snape.

Harry followed him downstairs, through some empty corridors, and down some more stairs into the dungeons, and then into Snape's office.

Harry had been in here only once before, and it was about as pleasant a space then as it was now. It seemed that Snape had acquired a few more slimy horrible things in glass jars to decorate the shelves that crowded the room.

"Sit," Snape said blandly.

Harry did as he was asked. Snape, however, remained standing.

"Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter," Snape began.

Harry said nothing.

"He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley-apparently alone."

Still, Harry didn't speak.

"Mr. Malfoy states that, as he was talking to Weasley, Mr. Jones came by, and harassed him physically. He also said that a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could've happened?"

Harry went for mild surprise as he said, "Well, I don't know, Professor. Alfred was with me in the Common Room the whole time. He couldn't very well be in two places at once, could he?"

Snape's eyes were boring into Harry's. It was almost like trying to stare down Professor Kirkland when he was convinced that someone had cheated on their test. Harry tried hard not to blink.

"Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition," Snape continued. "Can you imagine what it might've been, Potter?"

"No," said Harry, now trying to sound innocently curious.

The severe Potions master narrowed his eyes as he said, "It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair."

There was a long silence as Harry inwardly floundered as to what he should say next. He opened his mouth in an attempt to answer when the heavy door of the office swung open. Alfred stuck his head in, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Cozy place; the sinister objects in clouded jars adds a nice touch," Alfred commented mildly as he stepped into the room. He turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow and a slightly confused look. "Why'd you run off on me, Harry? I know that Lupin's Vampire Essay is a terrifying thought, but that's why we were working on it together, right? Oh, and Neville got back from the Library, like, two minutes after you left. He needed help with the thesis statement..." He stopped and looked at Snape as if just noticing him. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Snape snapped his fingers and pointed at the blond Gryffindor. "You, sit." He stabbed his finger at the vacant chair next to Harry's.

Alfred shrugged and turned the chair around, straddling it and resting his arms on the wooden backrest. "Ooookay then...Did I do something wrong?"

"I heard you had quite an interesting time at Hogsmeade," Snape said.

"Didn't go," Alfred sighed, visibly slumping a bit. "Toootally blows. But I forgot my money, and there's really no point in going without any money to spend. So, I stayed behind. At least I got to avoid those scary-ass Dementors though." He shuddered for good measure.

Snape frowned and studied the American intently. "Mr. Malfoy just recently informed me that you were bullying him over by the Shrieking Shack, which doesn't coincide with you story of being in Gryffindor Tower all day."

"Aw, man! Someone beat up Malfoy?! I miss _all_ the good stuff," Alfred exclaimed. He calmed down slightly. "I totally would've, given opportunity and a good enough reason," he admitted. "But I guess I missed out on that one, huh?"

Snape's head turned towards Harry. He narrowed his eyes again. "Turn out your pockets, Potter."

Harry hesitantly did so, withdrawing the Marauder's Map and the bag from Zonko's.

Snape's mouth curved into a horrible smile. "So," he said, straightening. "Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep the famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But the famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences."

His smirk turned Alfred "And the famous Harry Potter's silver-tongued 'protector' is doing a_ fine_ job of covering for him, but seems to be neglecting his job when it comes to actually _protecting_ anything."

Harry glanced at Alfred confusedly. _"Protector?"_

Alfred shrugged uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head with an uneasy expression.

"So much like your Father, Potter," Snape spat, his attention returning to Harry. "So pompously ignorant-are you telling me that you don't know who Mr. Jones is, after _living_ with the boy? What he is? He's not even _human_-and you somehow _missed_ that despite all the clues he's undoubtedly given you?"

Alfred seemed to shrink in his seat a bit.

Harry shook his head angrily. The words left his mouth before he could stop himself. "My father was not 'pompously ignorant'! I doubt _you_ would've realized anything amiss in my situation."

"Arrogant too," Snape mused, his eyes glinting. "Another trait you share with your late father...A smidgen of talent on the Quidditch field made him think himself a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting about the place with his friends and admirers...The resemblance between you two is uncanny."

"My dad didn't strut," Harry ground out. "And neither do I."

"Your father didn't put much store in the rules either," Snape went on, his thin face full of malice. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen-"

_"SHUT UP!"_

Harry was suddenly on his feet. Rage that he had not felt since his last night in Privet Drive coursed through him. He didn't care that Snape's face had gone rigid, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

_"What did you say to me, Potter?" _the severe professor demanded lowly.

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" Harry yelled. "I know the truth-you would've _died_ if he hadn't saved your life! Dumbledore told me!"

Snape's sallow skin had gone the color of sour milk. "And did he tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?" he asked in a whisper. "Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"

Harry bit his lip. He didn't know what'd happened and didn't want to admit it. Snape seemed to guess the truth, though. His face twisted into a terrible grin. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Well then, allow me to disillusion you. Your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would've resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

Harry was abolutely still. There was a pounding in his ears as he processed all of this information. Snape's uneven yellowish teeth were bared as he swiped the map that was still clutched in Harry's hand.

"What's this?" He wondered aloud. Such an old piece of parchment, and I sense magic coming off of it...a letter? Instructions on getting to Hogsmeade undetected? Let's see." He pulled out his wand, touching it to the parchment. "Reveal you secret!" he demanded of it.

Nothing happened. Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.

"Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply.

It stayed blank. Harry took deep calming breaths. He gave a sidelong glance at Alfred, who was being extremely silent. The American was busy frowning at his shoes.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand.

As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

_'Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.'_

Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck at the message. But the map didn't stop there. More writing appeared beneath the first.

_'Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.'_

It would've been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. and there was more...

_'Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that even became a professor.'_

Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he opened them again, the map had had it's last word.

_'Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.'_

Harry waited pensively for the blow to fall, careful to keep his face blank-a near impossible feat with all the emotions struggling for dominance inside of him.

"So..." Snape said softly. "We'll see about this..." He strode across the room to his fireplace, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace. "Lupin! Kirkland!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!"

Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. It flared up, throwing off a bright green light, and suddenly Professor Lupin was clambering out of it. It flared again, and Kirkland followed closely behind.

"I hate this school's bloody Floo Network," Kirkland stated as he stumbled out. "Someone messed up on constructing it. It's not _actually_ supposed to burn people!"

Lupin smiled bemusedly at his colleague's plight before turning to face Snape. "You called, Severus?" he asked mildly as he brushed the ash from his shabby robes.

"I certainly did," Snape answered. He shoved the map into Lupin's hands. "I just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this. Care to explain?"

Lupin read the writing, and an oddly closed expression appeared on his face.

"Well?" Snape demanded. "Where do you imagine Potter could've gotten such a thing?"

Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that he was doing some very quick thinking. He gave Harry a half-glance, warning him not to interrupt. "I don't understand the issue, here. It looks to me like a parchment that insults anyone who reads it. Childish, but not dangerous. I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop-"

"Indeed?" Snape interrupted, his jaw rigid with anger. "Are you sure it wasn't _directly from the manufacturers_?"

Harry didn't understand what Snape was talking about, and neither did the other two professors, apparently.

"Forgive me, but that sounds rather stupid, Severus," Kirkland sniffed, straightening his robes. "It looks like a Zonko's product to me-"

Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office as well. The place seemed almost cramped now. The redhead stopped just short of Snape's desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and out of breath. "I-gave-Harry-that-stuff," he choked out. "Bought-it...in...Zonko's...ages-ago..."

"Well!" Lupin exclaimed, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "that seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay-excuse us, Severus-"

Harry looked back to see Alfred get up from his seat to stand next to Kirkland, and the door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>"Why am I here, Snape?" Arthur demanded impatiently. 'Surely you can reprimand a student without me-even if he is my charge."<p>

The severe teacher narrowed his eyes. "Well your _charge_ isn't doing his job very well now, is he?"

Alfred bristled. "He was with me the entire time, _and_ he's still alive. That constitutes as doing my job."

"However, covering for Potter when he's in trouble with a teacher does not count," Snape answered. " I know he went to Hogsmeade. Even if I can't accuse him of it, I know he was. And I know you were there too. You can quit lying now-since your little friends are gone."

Alfred squared his shoulders resolutely. "So what, then? Nothing happened. Even if shit _did_ hit the fan, he was with Matthew and I. So why am I still in this office?"

Kirkland raised one gigantic eyebrow. "And why am I here? I have other things to do. I could be doing paperwork, banging my head against a wall, stabbing myself in the eye, breaking my own ribs...all _sorts_ of things that I find would be much more pleasant than having to hold an extended conversation with you."

Snape's dark eyes glittered angrily. "Jones is not doing his job-I don't even believe he's _able_. What if something _did_ happen at Hogsmeade? What if something happens _later_? He's just a boy, even if he's not a_ human_ boy. Not to mention that he's a complete idiot. What will he do if and when Sirius Black shows up?" To add insult to injury, he directed all of these questions at Kirkland, barely acknowledging Alfred's presence.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching and unclenching. He'd worked _too_ hard and _too_ long to be treated like a child by some human that was _several hundred years his junior_.

Arthur glanced sidelong at Alfred, saw his expression, and wisely stepped back. He _knew_ that look.

The American shoved Snape singlehandedly into his desk, making the heavy piece of furniture move backwards a few inches as Snape grunted painfully. Alfred advanced, his shoulders hunched forward threateningly. "_Boy_. I hate that word. I hate it _so_ much. Especially when it's directed at me. And that's all I hear lately. I am _not a fucking child_!"

"Alfred," Kirkland called warningly. Alfred paid it little heed.

Snape's hand strayed towards his wand...but Alfred didn't really care. He stepped up real close to Snape, and glared down at him darkly, gripping the front of his robes. "I am perfectly capable of protecting Harry Potter. Make my job easier by _staying out of it_!"

_"ALFRED!"_ Arthur yelled, pulling Alfred back by the robes.

The American released Snape and spun around looking at Arthur irritatedly. _"What?!" _

Arthur didn't even flinch as he gestured at Alfred's torso. "The de-aging spell wore off," he replied flatly.

Alfred rocked back in surprise, and noticed that, yes, he was taller than Arthur again. And his jacket fit his shoulders again. He looked down at his hands surprisedly, seeing the faint callouses and small scars from his blue collar workers returning. He felt his collar bone and around his shoulder. Those scars were back as well. He was thankful that the robes had grown with him as well. "...Oh."

Snape blinked and straightened cautiously. "A de-aging spell...?"

"Of course," Arthur replied smugly, thoroughly enjoying Snape's reaction. "You didn't think I'd send an _actual child_ to protect Harry Potter, did you?"

"I wouldn't have put it past you," Severus snapped irritatedly. He flicked an imaginary speck from his robes. "What about the other one? Wouldn't Williams be in Gryffindor Tower by now since both Ron _and_ his brother had returned to Hogwarts?"

Kirkland's eyes widened. "Buggering _fuck_..."

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaaand another chapter's done. A Saturday well spent, I think. And a cliffhanger, because I <em>know<em> how much you guys love them...**

**Thanks for all the support this story's gotten. I love every fav, follow, and review notice I get. Please tell me what you think? I had to decide between two different versions of this section, and I want to know if ya'll think that I've made the right choice.**

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	33. Chapter 33

Hermione looked up in surprise to see Matthew wander into the Common Room, his expression slightly clouded with worry. He quietly joined Hermione by the fireplace where she was reading, perfectly content to just stare into the low fire as she studied.

"Did Harry get caught?" she asked casually. "I know he went anyways, so there's no need to cover for him."

Matthew sighed and said, "Malfoy got involved...and you know how things go when that happens."

"You aren't kidding," the bushy-haired girl laughed. "So, Malfoy insulted someone-probably you, Ron, or Harry. Alfred lost his temper-I know how he hates certain behaviors. Malfoy ran off, told a teacher-probably Snape...am I correct in my inductions?"

"Sounds about right to me," the Canadian answered as a smile tugged at his lips. "You seem extremely lax about all of this. Are you really our rule-following bookworm Hermione, or an imposter that's trying to destroy her good name and impeccable record?"

Hermione shut her book with a shake of her head. "I've already decided to let this go. I have too much to do for me to try babysitting all you immature boys."

Matthew hummed noncommittally in response. A comfortable silence fell between the two.

Hermione finally broke the silence by saying, "Matthew, I need to ask you something-"

She was cut off when Matthew clutched his stomach with a groan. "...I feel weird. Like that time when-" he cut off with another groan. "..._Merde_, not now!"

"What is it?" Hermione asked concernedly. "Are you sick?"

Matthew shook his head rapidly as he jumped from his seat and ran towards the Boys Dormitory staircase. "Bathroom!" he hurriedly explained as he dashed up the stairs. But the fates apparently worked against him, for he tripped on the last step and fell backwards right back down the stairs. "_Bon sang!_" he yelled frustratedly, his voice sounding oddly deeper.

Hermione abandoned her seat as Matthew picked himself up off the ground. She skidded to a halt when she noticed that he was _much_ taller than before, and quite a bit older looking. "M-Matthew!" she exclaimed fearfully. "You're disguise, it's-!"

"I knew it!" the Canadian lamented. "I just _knew_ this would happen...Wait a minute." He stopped and peered at her closely, adjusting his glasses. "You _knew_?"

"I had my suspicions," Hermione admitted. Their ears perked up when the portrait hole began to creak open. "Hide! You can't be seen like this!"

Matthew's questions were put on hold as he nodded and ducked into a nearby shadowed corner, seemingly disappearing. Hermione briefly wondered at how he'd managed that, and turned around to see who'd entered the Common Room.

It was Harry and Ron, looking thoroughly down-trodden. They'd been scolded for their foolishness, then. She dared not look towards the corner where Matthew hid.

Ron looked at her near-pensive face, and mistook it's meaning. "Are you going to scold us, too? You tell Professor McGonagall already?"

"No, no," the girl answered quickly. "It already happened, and you were already reprimanded. I'm just er...studying." She gestured to the closed book on the chair she was just sitting in.

"Oh," Ron said in understanding, now seeming rather sheepish.

Harry however, still had a tragic look on his face. "You guys...I need to tell you all something about Alfred."

"What is it?" Ron asked. "He's probably in trouble with Kirkland right now, but he'll be fine in the end, right?"

"That's not it," Harry said quietly.

Hermione resisted the urge to gulp nervously. "What is it, Harry?"

"Alfred...he's not human," Harry finally said. His hand clenched into fists as he continued resentfully, "Snape called him my _'protector'_...I think he's just another security measure against Sirius Black."

Ron's eyes bulged and his face became a bit red. "What?!"

Harry nodded distantly, apparently having a hard time believing it himself. "Which means that Matthew is too-and possibly Professor Kirkland."

Hermione bit her lip. Of course they'd react like this. Harry _hated_ being treated like he was breakable.

"That must be why Dumbledore covered for that duel with Malfoy," Ron said. "Or why Snape hates them so much...I bet he hired them!"

"I knew something was off about them," Harry stated. "We all knew. But we were distracted with Sirius Black, school and Quidditch...I feel so stupid!"

"Wait a minute!" Hermione exclaimed, causing them both to look at her. She knew she had to be careful with what she said next. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions yet...I mean, if they were here to protect us, then I don't think Alfred would be so willing to punch another student. _Or_ back-talk a teacher. _Or_ sneak out with us...and Matthew, he's obviously paying more attention to his brother's welfare than anyone else's-which makes sense if they're just students, right?"

Harry seemed to digest this information as he said, "But...Snape said..."

"Who cares what Snape said?" Hermione asked. "He's _always_ trying to get at you. He was probably lying."

Ron latched onto this idea immediately. He clearly didn't want to believe _anything_ Snape said, especially if it meant he'd been tricked this whole year. "That makes sense, 'Mione," he praised relievedly. "No 'protector' from Dumbledore would give me a punch in the jaw...even if I _did_ deserve it a little bit."

Harry warmed up to the idea rather quickly, for it seemed like a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Hermione found it almost _scary_ at how she could change his opinion so fast.

Just then, Alfred burst into the room. He looked around frantically, noticed that they were alone, and seemed to breath a sigh of relief. "Hey dudes, any of you seen Mattie?"

"Nope," Ron answered. "Haven't seen 'im." He glanced towards the exit and said, "I'm gonna go down to the kitchens...see if they got any snacks that I could eat. Dinner's still kinda far away." He left, presumably in the direction of the kitchens.

Harry got up as well. "I actually _do_ need to finish that vampire essay for Lupin. I think I'll go to the library...I have some stuff to think about now, anyways." He left as well.

The moment the portrait hole closed, Hermione said, "You can come out now, Matthew."

The Canadian reappeared again with a rather sheepish expression on his face. Alfred looked up at his brother bemusedly. "Did Arthur tell you that there was a freakin' _time limit_ for the spell? He _sure_ as hell didn't bother to inform me."

Matthew shook his head. "I didn't know either. Or else I would've had him renew it monthly."

Alfred withdrew a pendant from his pocket, a silvery maple leaf hanging on a plain black cord. "Well this doesn't have a time-limit. Artie said that he'd _just_ finished making them this morning, and was supposed to give it to us during class...oh, well. The damage is done."

Matthew took the proffered necklace and put it around his neck. Hermione blinked, and Matthew suddenly had the appearance of a fourteen year old once again. He tucked the pendant under his robes.

Alfred pulled down his own collar slightly, to show a silver star shaped pendant.

Hermione cleared her throat to remind them of her presence. Alfred winced at this and turned to her slowly. "So...um...yeah...hi."

Matthew leaned almost casually against the wall. "When did you figure it out?"

"A while ago," Hermione answered. "You two didn't hide your tracks completely, and there were too many coincidences to ignore."

Alfred shoved his hands into his bomber jacket's pockets. "We're not spies or anything," he promised. "We really mean no harm-and Dumbledore already knows."

"I figured as much," Hermione responded. "You in particular have gotten away with_ quite_ a few things that you shouldn't have, this year."

Matthew peered closely at her. "Do you know..._what_ we are, exactly?"

Hermione was silent for a moment as she debated telling them. "...If I did," she said slowly, "How would you react?"

"It depends," Alfred said quietly. "_If_ you knew...and_ if_ we thought you were going to tell another human of our natures...we'd have to make you either forget or disappear."

Hermione shivered slightly at his oddly flat and alien tone towards the end of that statement. "Do I strike you as someone who'd tell? If I _did_ know, hypothetically?"

Matthew looked down at his shoes before answering. "...Only if you felt it to be the right thing to do." He looked at her square in the face. "But humans are fickle and complex creatures. Maybe you'll feel it's the right thing to do...at the wrong moment."

Hermione resisted the urge to gulp in apprehension. She understood where they were coming from...especially if her theory was correct. But it terrified her no less.

Alfred's shoulder's tightened a bit in nervousness. "You..._don't_ know. Right? I know the Obliviate can have side effects for younger children...and I _don't_ want to disappear a friend again."

Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, I don't. I thought I did for a while...but now I know my theory was incorrect."

"What were you thinking?" Matthew asked curiously, obviously relieved at her answer.

"Demigods," Hermione answered embarrassedly. It really _was_ one of the possibilities she'd researched after witnessing Alfred's strength firsthand.

There was a beat or two of silence, before they simultaneously burst into rounds of laughter. Alfred was doubled over, barely breathing. "AHAHA!-Oh, _God_ no! Oh, just...just _no_! HAHAHA..."

Matthew's face was split into a wide grin that was actually similar to his twin's as he laughed, his arms folded over his stomach and his eyes squeezed shut. Hermione smiled and giggled as well, mostly out of relief. They calmed down after about five minutes of this.

"Oh, and Hermione," Matthew said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Thanks for covering us in front of Ron and Harry...they just wouldn't understand."

The Gryffindor girl nodded. "Of course. Harry is naturally a bit distrustful...I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he was _still_ suspicious. Ron would just go with whatever Harry believed, thinking him above reproach...But I trust you two. You've had plenty of chances to harm us, but you never did. You've both been very good friends-just what we need in times like these."

"You are remarkably mature for someone your age," Alfred commented, adjusting his glasses. "Now lets put all of this aside and get down to what's _really_ important. That vampire essay for Lupin? I haven't even _started_ it yet..."

* * *

><p>The safety measures imposed upon the students since Black's escape were really starting to get on Harry's nerves. The knights Kirkland had enchanted kept looking at him suspiciously for some reason, and there was almost always a teacher near him. Lately, the security trolls seemed to have gotten to comfortable at their post. They've begun to take liberties that they hadn't previously-the most common being that a troll would grunt and push students to the side if they felt that they were being blocked. Harry, having been victim of this more than once, was absolutely fed up with it.<p>

Of course, he could hardly complain about his own relationship with the trolls when compared to Neville's.

"Excuse m-ah!" The pudgy Gryffindor was shoved into a pillar, spilling his books and papers all over the ground. The offending troll, one of the larger ones, his club covered with some rather suspect brownish-red stains, released an ugly laugh. He even took a moment to stomp on the papers before moving down the hallway towards a trio of other trolls who seemed to be on a lunch break...Harry didn't know that trolls even _had_ lunch breaks.

Neville, in a random spurt of the hidden courage that had earned him a spot in Gryffindor in the first place, called after the troll. "Hey!"

The troll half turned back towards the boy with a scowl and a grunt, swinging his heavy club casually off of his shoulder and into his palm.

"That...T-that wasn't very nice and..." Neville lost his nerve and his knees began to shake in apprehension as the troll backtracked and loomed over him threateningly.

Harry facepalmed. Neville was honestly no good in a fight...and a troll was not the best opponent to practice with.

"Someone needs to help him."

Harry started in surprise; he'd not noticed Matthew pop up next to him. "Matthew? _Please_ stop coming up behind me. I jump _every_ bloody time."

Matthew paid little heed to what Harry had said. He winced as he watched Neville sidle backwards when the troll leaned down to meet him face-to-face. "Why has no one helped him? I know _I'd_ hate to be alone in that situation."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "They won't hurt him-Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. Besides, he's still rather unpopular because he'd left the passwords out for Sirius Black..."

Matthew fell silent for a moment. Harry gave his friend a curious sidelong glance. The Canadian's face grew determined as he said, "Stay here, no matter what. I'm going to help him." He strode purposefully towards Neville and the troll.

"P-please, Mister troll, er, sir-" Neville began. The troll let out a series of rough grunts, the other trolls laughed in response. Neville let out a terrified squeak.

Matthew bodily stepped in front of Neville and glowered at the troll. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

The troll rocked back slightly in mild surprise at the tiny boy standing before him. He made an odd expression that was the troll-equivalent of raising an eyebrow.

"Don't you have something better to do than terrorize students?" Matthew demanded. "While you've been bullying Neville here, Sirius Black could've gotten right by you and you wouldn't know! _God_, I knew trolls were stupid but you...I don't even have _words_ for your stupidity!"

The troll frowned as it struggled to translate what was being said. Realization eventually dawned on it's face, quickly followed by anger. He beat his club against his palm and grunted, trying to intimidate Matthew.

The Canadian wasn't even phased. He eyed the creature's lumbering movements critically. "All talk, no game. Am I correct?"

"M-Matthew, don't..." Neville started fearfully.

Matthew glanced back at the terrified Gryffindor impassively. "The password is 'Chinymuffins'. Go back to the Common Room, I've got something to take care of."

Neville nodded reluctantly and ran off. Matthew turned his attention back to the troll, opened his mouth to say something, and barely ducked in time to avoid the troll's heavy swing of his club. Matthew jumped back and narrowed his eyes, "You really want to play it like that?"

This seemed to anger the troll even more. It lumbered forward, raising the club over it's head. Matthew swiped his hand and yelled, "Don't you_ fucking_ dare!"

The temperature suddenly dropped enough for Harry to see his own breath condense before him. Frost formed on the floor. Pale ice blossomed from the creature's club and crept down it's arm at an alarmingly fast rate. The troll was soon encased in ice, and completely immobilized. Matthew smirked, visibly relaxing.

Harry shivered, and not because of the cold. Matthew hadn't recited a spell-he hadn't even taken out his _wand_.

None other than Professor McGonagall swept into the hall, lead by a student who'd also witnesed the whole thing. "What is all of this?" she damanded. "Who did this?!" Harry couldn't help but feel a tiny bit insulted at the fact that she was giving a pointed glare at him, ignoring the other bystanders, the shocked trolls at the end of the hall, and the Canadian who was standing _right in front of the troll_.

"I did," Matthew said unapologetically, gaining the attention of the professor.

"_You_ did this?" McGonagall asked, surprise lightly coloring her voice. "I'd expect such antics from you brother, but _you_...?"

"Yes," Matthew answered simply, his expression neutral.

McGonagall frowned and said, "You should know better, Williams. These trolls are one of the security measures against-"

"Sirius Black, I know," Matthew interrupted flatly. "Although I fail to see the point in these trolls if they do more terrorizing than they do protecting. This one, for example, was busy bullying Neville while he was _supposed_ to be patrolling the hall."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "'Bullying'? Do you mean to say that this troll has been harrassing students?"

Matthew nodded, saying nothing.

McGonagall's mouth pressed into a thin line as she looked up at the frozen creature. "Well...I suppose that I couldn't give you detention...if it was self defense." She turned and studied Harry minutely. "Potter, you saw the whole thing, I'm assuming. Is this the truth?"

Harry, inexplicably nervous at the sudden attention, nodded quickly. McGonagall thankfully seemed satisfied by this as she returned her stern gaze to Matthew. "Alright then...as you were, I suppose." With that, she waved her wand dismissively at the troll, causing it to seemingly phase out of existence.

Harry sighed in relief as she walked off, beckoning the other security trolls to follow her in a manner that allowed for no argument. Matthew turned towards the Fat Lady's silently stunned portrait, and Harry quickly joined him. "How did you _do_ that?" he asked.

Matthew gained a rather amused expression as they entered the Common Room. "Freeze the troll, or talk to McGonagall like that without getting expelled?"

"Both," Harry responded eagerly.

Matthew shrugged nonchalantly. "McGonagall trusts me, and knows that I'm the least likely to do something without a good reason. As far as the troll goes...I don't really know. I remember being angry, and wanting it to stop. Then it...stopped, I guess."

"So you just pulled a wandless spell out of your sleeve," Harry said slowly. "No practice, or forethought, or anything?"

Matthew nodded. "Yeah, I was surprised too-_believe_ me. But I decided to just go with it when I saw the other trolls' expressions."

Harry shook his head bemusedly. "Wow, Matthew. Just...wow."

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaaaay! I got the chapter done! I felt Matthew needed a bit more screen time, and that I needed to make clear that Canada is just as much a badass as his brother.<strong>

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews guys! It makes my day much more interesting when I have the opportunity to ponder your feedback and opinions.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	34. Chapter 34

The story about Matthew and the trolls quickly spread around the school, becoming increasingly fanciful and unbelievable as it travelled.

Harry saw an example of this when he and Alfred came across Ron in the hall, who was regaling the tale to a first-year Hufflepuff girl.

"The floor was so slippery you could've ice skated on it!" the redhead said excitedly. "Then there was a great cracking sound and a giant spike _shot_ out of the frozen ground, which the troll_ barely_ avoided in time when he slipped and fell backwards-"

Harry and Alfred looked at each other amusedly. The American winked at him and sidled up next to Ron. "Cool story, dude!" he said, placing an arm on Ron's shoulder. "Who told it to you?"

Ron blinked as he noticed the American's presence. "Er, Colin Creeley, I think. Said he heard it from Fred, who'd heard it from Seamus, who'd said he saw the whole thing."

Harry couldn't help but ask, "And you trust_ Colin Creeley's_ interpretation after he'd gotten it from _Fred _of all people?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, and closed it again as he thought the situation through. The Hufflepuff girl smiled knowingly, directed a quiet nod of thanks in Alfred and Harry's directions, and departed. Ron sighed and looked at Alfred tiredly. "Must you do this _every _time I have a good story, Alfred?"

The American shrugged and said, "Hey, I gotta call bullshit when I see it."

"You weren't there, either," Ron pointed out. "So how would you know?"

"I know because Matthew is my brother, and he tells me everything," Alfred retorted happily. "He froze the troll. That's it. There were _no_ trolls impaled on icy spikes of doom. Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry smiled slightly at his friends expression as he nodded in agreement. He looked around, and found that the hall was nearly empty already. "Uh, mates? We're going to be late for Care Of Magical Creatures..."

* * *

><p>"What would happen if I opened the cage?" Matthew wondered aloud as he poked more lettuce through the bars.<p>

"Maybe something interesting?" Harry hypothesized hopefully.

"No," Hermione sighed. "They'll just do...whatever it is they always do. Flobberworms are easier to work with in this sense."

"Easier to work with, as in, boring." Alfred clarified.

Ron nodded forlornly in agreement. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of creaking and splitting wood, followed by a loud _'CRASH!'_. Nearly the entire class turned to see what was going on, hoping beyond hopes that it was something _new_.

"Alfred!" Hagrid called as he stepped around the huge felled tree with an axe swung over his shoulder. "Come help me get this picked up 'n over to the stables, would ya?...Yer flobberworms will hold until then."

The American leapt up at the chance. "No problem, dude!" He sent a bright smile to his friends and went to assist.

"Why does _he_ get to do something else?" a random Slytherin girl whined loudly. "Favoritism, I tell you!"

"You can help if you think you can keep up," Hagrid responded flatly, gesturing with his thumb.

As if to punctuate this point, Alfred chose that moment to lift the heavy tree trunk from one end, get under it, and brace it on his shoulder. He lifted it with what looked to be minimal effort on his part, and disappeared into the trees with the thing. A shocked silence fell over the class. Many had not seen his unusual strength before.

"No takers?" Hagrid said with a small smile that was barely evident through his great black beard. "A shame...I was hopin' to get a few more trees cleared before this hour was through..." He adjusted the grip on his axe, and raised a warning finger for the class. "I'll be righ' back. I have ta go take care of some things...No hullaballoo while I'm away, now!" Alfred returned, and Hagrid beckoned for him to follow. They walked off, presumably to clear more trees.

"Lucky," Ron grumbled under his breath.

"How do you think he got that way?" Harry asked. "Super strength isn't a normal thing-even in the wizarding world."

"We don't know why or how," Matthew confessed. "Even when he was a col-er baby, he could swing a fully grown buffalo around without difficulty."

"Really?" Hermione said, her voice showing clear interest.

Alfred's cheerful voice made them all jump as he came up behind them. "You shoulda _seen_ Iggy's face when he saw that! It was absolutely priceless."

Ron raised both eyebrows in surprise. "You're done already?"

Alfred nodded, rolling his shoulders a bit and cricking his neck. "Yep. Wasn't all that hard. All I had to do was carry two at a time to get it done faster. I sure gave Hagrid a run for 'is money, though!"

"Speaking of whom," Hermione interjected. "Where _is_ Hagrid?"

As if hearing Hermione's question, the half-giant reappeared before the class, panting. "Good Lor' Alfred! That just ain' human!"

Some students chuckled at the idea that a third year could outpace a half-giant. Others, the Slytherins in particular, seemed to mutter amongst themselves over what Hagrid had said...and_ how_ he'd said it.

Hagrid suddenly looked nervous. "Er, would ya look at the time! Class dismissed!"

* * *

><p>"That, is probably the most interesting Care Of Magical Creatures lesson I'd been in since the first day," Ron decided as the walked towards the castle.<p>

"Still wasn't all that interesting," Harry pointed out. He didn't mention how_ interesting _he'd found Hagrid's reaction to the whole 'not human' discussion among the classmates. Hagrid never did have a very good poker face...and he looked like he'd let something slip.

"Agreed," Hermione said.

They fell silent as the castle came into view. The weather was finally lightening out, but the sky was still mostly grey. That, framing a huge gothic castle, added an almost monotone feel to it. The grounds, usually with some happy chatter or laughter floating on the air, was extremely subdued. The grass was essentially dead-most likely due to a mixture of a late spring and the proximity of the Dementors. The Whomping Willow was especially menacing, it's gnarled branches seeming to desperately claw at the dull sky with every push of the echoing wind. An unfortunately familiar voice alighted upon their ears as they traveled up the path.

"The way I'm getting treated at this school is appalling! Me! A respectable pureblood! This_ cannot_ stand. I told you how that bloody bird was cleared, right? Well I've been thinking...it's still on Hogwarts grounds. Maybe you two could cause a little 'accident' with the lock on the stables. The bird would get free; it might even go on a rampage if it's mad enough-which we could arrange if need be. Then the half-wit would be fired for sure!"

Crabbe and Goyle chortled at the pure heartlessness of their leader's idea. To make things worse, Malfoy wasn't done.

"It gets better. I just received word from my father. The ministry actually _has_ no files on Arthur Kirkland. That means he legally doesn't exist-at least not as a human. At best he counts as a 'creature of near human intelligence'...that also means he isn't truly eligible for his job. I'm willing to bet that Jones and Williams are in a similar situation. We can bring it to the attention of the School Board that Dumbledore is allowing _non-human_ and_ potentially dangerous_ creatures into the school...I'll probably have enough bruises to prove it next time I run afoul of the yankee."

Alfred's face fell blank, and his fists clenched. Matthew didn't look all to pleased either, but he gripped his brother's hand to prevent him from doing something stupid. "Al, the last thing he needs is _evidence_," Matthew warned under his breath. "Keep your temper in check or so help me I will _freeze you too_."

Harry was beyond angry that Malfoy was trying to get Buckbeak killed_ again_, followed by Hagrid losing his job. But he couldn't help but note that Malfoy seemed to be in agreement with Snape about Alfred and Matthew not being actual humans. He filed this away for later, and returned his focus to the matter at hand.

The voices got louder as they came up the path.

"I can't wait to see that old fool blubber!" Malfoy said venomously. He came into sight of the group of Gryffindors, smirked, and continued as if they weren't there. "Oh, how he'll cry, and moan about losing his precious beast! So _pathetic_-"

Harry and Ron both made furious moves towards Malfoy. Matthew was half-tempted to release his brother as he looked towards the pale Slytherin with near-deadly intent. Malfoy was going to get punched. But the actual culprit surprised them all.

_'SMACK!'_

Malfoy's head snapped back as Hermione's fist collided with his nose. He clutched at his bloodied appendage with a moan.

"Don't you _dare_ call Hagrid pathetic," Hermione growled, her hands still clenched into angry fists. "You foul-you _evil_-"

"Hermione!" Ron cried out weakly. He tried to grab her hand as she swung it back for another hit.

"Get _off_, Ron!" the usually passive Gryffindor snarled. She pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, bewildered at this change in attitude.

"_Okay_, girlie," Alfred said, deciding it was time for him to intervene. He firmly gripped her shoulders and pulled her away from the pale Slytherin boy. "I understand. _Trust me_ when I say that. But Matthew's right. Now is _not_ the time."

Hermione lowered her wand, slowly, half-wanting to fire off a spell anyway. Malfoy blinked at this, still rather confused. He silently gestured to his cronies, and they retreated up the hill towards the castle.

Alfred frowned as he noted the expression on her face. "Um..Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

Hermione shook herself and offered her friends an uconvincing smile. "It's alright. I'm just a little...frazzled."

Harry couldn't help but feel that was a_ really_ big understatement on her part.

* * *

><p>"Yo, dudes. Where'd Hermione go?" Alfred whispered to them. Flitwick looked their way, and Alfred looked down at his notes as if he were studying them. "She was right there with us when you opened the door," he said quietly. "And yet she isn't here…"<p>

Harry glanced towards Hermione's seat, which was vacant. "That's weird. Maybe…maybe she went to the bathroom?"

But the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl never turned up for class.

* * *

><p>"She could've done with a Cheering Charm on her too," Ron commented with a broad grin on his face as the class left for lunch. They'd been practicing on each other in class, so everyone had a great feeling of contentment and general good feelings.<p>

"I should _totally_ cast this on Iggy!" Alfred exclaimed happily. He really seemed no different from usual. But Matthew, who knew his brother much more intimately, noticed that Alfred's smile seemed…easier.

"I can name a few other people who could use this," the Canadian added. "It make our-ah, _Arthur's _job much more pleasant."

* * *

><p>Towards the end of lunch, the after-effects of the Cheering Charms were wearing off, and Hermione still hadn't reappeared. They were starting to get worried.<p>

"You don't think Malfoy did something to her, do you?" Ron wondered fearfully. He pushed his empty plate away and grimaced slightly, like he'd eaten too much.

"She did punch him," Matthew agreed worriedly. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"He better've not, the little weasel..." Alfred muttered darkly, studying his feet as he walked.

"_Al_fred," his brother warned. "What did I tell you last night about your temper?"

The American seemed rather abashed at this. His expression morphed into a light pout. "But _Maaaattie_, Malfoy's a supremacist _jaaaackass _and-"

"_Don't_ finish that sentence," Matthew interrupted sharply, raising a warning finger. "You know better."

Harry would've found the exchange amusing if it weren't for his anxiousness. "We don't know if Malfoy had anything to do with it," he said. "She might be in the Common Room…let's check there, first.

* * *

><p><strong>First chapter of 2015! Everyone jump from their desk chairs in joy! Yaaaay!<strong>

**Since we got all that out of the way...This chapter was obnoxiously hard to write, and I don't really know why. Buuuut it got easier towards the end, which is a good thing. I'm on a bit of a roll, so I'm going to ride it into the first section of the next chapter.**

**Thanks for all of the different forms of support this story has received, and thanks to all of you who found it worth reading this far. And I'm DESPERATE for attention...well, besides the light death glares that I'm getting from my Physics teacher. So...review?**

**Later dudes. ^J^ **


	35. Chapter 35

"Password?"

"Flibbertigibbet," Harry exhaled impatiently.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow. "That was this _morning's_ password. I''m afraid that I cannot let you in without the _current_ password."

_"What?!"_ Ron demanded, his cheeks already taking on a red coloring. "Passwords change daily, not hourly!"

"Since my body guards have unjustly been dismissed," the Fat Lady informed them, "the passwords are to be changed at every lunch-for safety." Her calm tone was at odds to the vindictive smile playing upon her lips. "If someone had left well enough _alone_," she sent a pointed look at Matthew, "perhaps there wouldn't have been the need for such a change in policy."

The Canadian frowned at the painting speculatively. "The trolls were mostly for _your_ protection, though. How does changing the passwords more make you any safer?"

Instead of answering, the Fat Lady just huffed and glared scornfully down her nose at the four Gryffindors.

"Bullshit..."

_"What was that?"_ the painting demanded shrilly. She'd always had a special hate for students who used such indelicate words towards her.

Alfred regarded her blankly. "Buuuuuuuuullshit," he repeated slowly. "B-U-L-L-S-"

"Ma'am," Matthew interrupted, putting a silencing hand on his twin's shoulder. "If you don't let us in then I'm afraid that my brother is going to rip your painting and break down the door."

The Fat Lady gasped and recoiled in her seat, scandalized. There was a shocked silence as everyone digested what the usually mild mannered boy had just said.

Alfred blinked in mild surprise. "I am?"

"Yes...yes, you are," Harry answered, quickly catching on to the Canadian's idea. "Shouldn't be all that hard for you, considering your strength."

Matthew smirked at the rotund singer, as if _daring_ her to contest him.

"Oh...alrighty then." Alfred didn't sound terribly objected to the idea.

"I'm...I'm going to get the headmaster if you do not cease this immediately!" the Fat Lady cried, already threatening to leave her seat.

"Go ahead. Either way, this door will not exist in a few seconds, unless you open it for us and forget that this happened," Matthew said coolly. "Listen, we're on a time crunch. And Alfred is _not_ known for his patience."

The American's easy smile gained a bit of an edge, and he cracked his knuckles sharply. Ron took a nervous step back. The Fat Lady broke out into a cold sweat. Harry worried about the future.

* * *

><p>Arthur strode into the somehow freezing teacher's lounge to see Professor Lupin leaning heavily on a column, a hand over his gaunt face. The blond teacher cautiously approached him, wondering what was wrong. "Lupin?..."<p>

The shabby professor started and looked at Kirkland as if he'd done something dastardly. He stepped away from the column and into better light. His eyes were haunted, and his skin had an unhealthy grayish tint to it. "Professor Kirkland! I'm sorry I just..." He trailed off and looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

"It's, ah, it's alright...Lupin..." Arthur reassured hesitantly. "Apologies, for I didn't mean to frighten you."

The ill looking man tried for a smile, and failed miserably. "I-I think I should sit down." He wavered and stumbled to the chair nearest the cold fireplace. Arthur joined him, and set the fireplace ablaze with a whispered word and a flick of his wand.

The ensuing silence was deafening. Lupin stared moodily into the fire, picking at his knuckles. Arthur shifted in his seat and peered closely at the man. "Remus...are you quite alright?"

Lupin nodded half-heartedly. "I'm fine-just tired."

Arthur raised one bushy eyebrow. "Really, all fine and healthy?"

"Yes."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

There was a moment of silence as the two professors blankly regarded each other.

"Humans, are the _worst_ liars," Arthur decided with a rueful chuckle. He leaned back in his seat and steepled his hands contemplatively. "Is it contagious enough where I should just feel bad for you from a safe distance?"

Remus barely acknowledged this remark as he said, "I can feel it...it's coming..."

Arthur cocked his head. "What's coming?"

"The-the moon, it's..." Lupin cut himself off with a sigh. "Are you..._aware_ of my condition?"

"A condition...the moon..." After a moment, Arthur managed to fit the pieces together. His eyes widened briefly, and pity flashed across his face before it fell neutral once again. "The _full_ moon is fast approaching, if my memory serves."

The sickly professor said nothing in response. He watched Arthur closely, as if gauging the reaction.

"How long?" Arthur inquired softly.

"I-I was four," Lupin answered quietly. "My father, he testified against...Fenir Greyback, despite the threats to the family, and others he'd made an example of...I went outside one night-I don't even remember why. Then he was there, in front of me and then...this."

Arthur didn't inquire any further; it was obviously still a painful subject. But he figured he could try and help where he could. "From what I know of werewolves, the intensity of the transformation is dependent upon the emotions of the afflicted. Correct?"

"Yes, it does," Lupin responded slowly. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"_Something's_ bothering you. I know it." Arthur offered as a vague explanation. "Don't even try to lie. I _know something's bothering you_. Don't ask me how, I just _do_."

Lupin's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "...Alright, that much I'll admit. And no, my transformations and symptoms haven't been very pleasant lately-not that they ever are."

"Listen, Remus." Arthur reached over and firmly gripped the professor's shoulder. Lupin inhaled sharply, and his eyes unfocused. "Next time you transform, I want you to focus on _home_. Do you understand me?" Lupin gave a small nod, still out of touch with the rest of the world. "Everything that's familiar-everything that you love about it. _Home_, and _hearth_, and _England_."

* * *

><p><em>Lupin was suddenly filled with an inexplicable sense of nostalgia. He remembered the one shady tree that stood closer to the house than the rest, and of how he'd sit under it to read whenever the weather permitted it.<em>

_A lion's rumbling voice resonated in his ears. _'Everything that's familiar-everything that you love about it.'

_He remembered how the ground smelled after every rain. He remembered his mother's cooking. He remembered his father's smile-something he hadn't seen in a _long time_._

_'_Home_, and _hearth_, and_ England_.'_

_With that, he saw visions of ancient stone walls, honorable knights, mannered gentlemen around fireplaces, kings and queens upon their thrones, sunlight shining upon the morning dew, great banks of fog, and the roaring ocean. Then there was war, compassion, treachery, greed, love, hate, trust, murder, reason, _insanity_, anguish-_

* * *

><p>Arthur quickly withdrew his hand when Lupin's breath became short. Lupin inhaled a gulp of air, and looked around bewilderedly. His eyes rested on Kirkland, and he understood. "...Oh, my."<p>

Arthur smiled in response to this. It was always nice to see a mortal that _understood_.

Lupin looked down at his hands. They weren't shaking anymore. "Home..." He looked the Englishman full in the face. "I get it now, I know who...I know who you are now. It's odd though. I couldn't even begin to fathom this, but...it feels..._safe_, to me."

"You can't tell _anyone_," Arthur warned. "If anyone else in this school knew, it'd be common knowledge within a day. And I did _not_ get this far by trusting large groups of people with my secret."

"I won't," Lupin reassured. He looked back at the roaring fire thoughtfully. "It certainly explains a lot. Like how familiar you were, despite the fact that I'd never met you. Or your seemingly endless fountain of knowledge."

Arthur's gaze turned to the fire as well. "It's odd isn't it? I'm essentially an English stereotype, but with all the _other_ things I represent, I could never really pass as a human for long."

Lupin offered a small smile in affirmation, saying nothing. He looked _much_ better than he did before. The shadows over his eyes had lessened, and his skin was slightly less grey. Arthur stood up with a yawn. "It appears that my work _here_ is done. But I still have papers to grade...I'll probably see you at dinner." Without waiting for a response, he left the room.

* * *

><p>They scrambled through the portrait hole and into the Common Room, relieved to see Hermione fast asleep at a table, using her open Arithmancy book as a pillow. Harry prodded her awake.<p>

Hermione woke up with a start. She stared around wildly. "Wh-what? Is it time to go? Which lesson do we have now?"

"Divination, but not for another twenty minutes," Matthew reassured.

"Hermione," Harry inquired worriedly, "why didn't you come to Charms?"

"What? Oh no!" Hermione squeaked. "I forgot to go to Charms! Was Flitwick angry? Oh, I was so preoccupied with Malfoy that I lost track of things!"

"You know what, Hermione?" Ron said, looking her frazzled appearance over. "I'm beginning to think that You're cracking up-trying to do too much."

"No, I'm not!" hermione insisted, brushing the hair out of her eyes and staring hopelessly around for her bag. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I need to go see Professor Flitwick...I'll see you in Divination!"

She started up from her chair, but Alfred made her sit right back down. "Oh, no. You're way too overworked. You aren't going _anywhere_ until you've had sleep."

"What?! But I have to go see Flitwick! He said we were doing Cheering Charms today-and that it would be on the final!" Hermione tried to get up again. "Even if I don't go, I still have to attend Divination!"

Alfred gently pushed her back into the seat. "No, Hermione. We've hardly seen you tis year without your nose in a book. Your mind is becoming increasingly scattered; we can't hold a conversation with you anymore without you disappearing. You've skipped meals, which means you're eating undersized meals on-the-go to remain nourished... it isn't healthy!"

Hermione slumped tiredly. "I...I know. But I can't stop-I have too many classes and too much homework. My schedule doesn't allow for leisure time."

"I don't know how you're doing this, 'Mione," Ron said worriedly. "But it can't be good for you. Please stop, at least for today. Take a breather."

The bushy-haired girl looked towards the exit helplessly with bloodshot eyes. "But..."

"Sleep," Matthew insisted. "Divination is your last class of the day, right? You don't even _like_ Divination. You can borrow my notes for Charms later."

the fact that Hermione didn't require all that much convincing was a mark of how tired she really was. The girl nodded, rose from her seat, "Wake me for dinner," and disappeared up the stairs to the Girls' Dormitory.

"Poor girl," Matthew said quietly. "Been gifted with curiosity and natural brilliance, but cursed with restlessness."

Harry couldn't help nodding in agreement at this insightful statement. "But she'll be back at it again tomorrow."

"We should probably go to Divination, now," Ron reminded them suddenly. "Class starts in seven minutes."

Alfred frowned at the thought. "Actually...I'm going to stay here. Keep an eye on Hermione and make sure she stays in bed."

"Alright," Harry said. "Its not like you'll actually need the notes."

"Five minutes," Ron said uncomfortably. "We need to go."

"Sounds almost like you're _excited_ for Divination, Ron," Matthew jested as they turned to leave. "Searching for the possibility of a _girlfriend_ in the near future?"

Ron's indignant response was cut off as the portrait door slammed shut, almost spitefully. The Fat Lady was probably still miffed about the whole _'destroy-your-painting-or-let-us-in'_ thing, followed immediately by the _'forget-this-happened-or-we-destroy-your-painting-anyway'_ threat. Matthew could be downright _scary_ when he wanted to be, even if he wasn't necessarily doing the dirty work _directly_.

Alfred immediately compared this to a mob boss he'd met years ago. A mild mannered fella...until you messed with one of his boys.

The image of Matthew in a pinstripe suit and a fedora while brandishing a tommy gun was enough to send the American into a fit of giggles. Canada'd been his biggest alcohol importer back then, sure. But Canada _himself_ was never really involved with his gangs. It just wasn't his thing.

Didn't change the fact that Matthew was still kind of a scary dude, sometimes. Thank _God_ they were on good terms with each other. Politically _and_ personally.

Alfred glanced at the tall grandfather clock against the wall. Dinner wouldn't be for a while, yet. He was alone in the Common Room, and probably would be for a while, given the time.

_'Matthew managed lower the temperature of a room by _glaring_. He then proceeded to freeze a troll just by _pointing at it_. Time to do some experimenting of my own.'_

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaaaaaaay another chapter! I'm so proud of myself! AND it was especially fun to write. Arthur needed more screen time, and so did Lupin, for that matter. So...this was born. And I never liked the Fat Lady. She always seemed so overly pretentious to me. I mean, accepting a job to <em>guard a door<em>, on the condition that she had _guards __for herself_? Really?**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, followed, or even just _read_ this story. I'm flattered by it, truly. So, review please? I PROMISE that I don't bite, so don't be shy!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	36. Chapter 36

Hermione sat up in her bed and looked at the clock on her bedside table. The hour was almost up, but she could make Divination if she just...made time for it. Her friends might be upset, but they were really worrying too much. She was fine.

_Though Professor Kirkland had been concerned as well..._

She quickly shoved this thought to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to be doubting herself. She would _prove_ that she could do this, no matter what her peers said.

Hermione resolutely left the dormitory, grabbing her bag on the way out. She slipped the timeturner over her head as she approached the stone stairs. She stopped with a squeak and ducked behind the stone banister. The Common Room was _not_ as empty as she'd thought it was.

Alfred sat before the fire, tracing odd circles in the air with his finger. He froze, Hermione was careful to keep silent. The American sat for a full minute, listening intently. He then shrugged and resumed his...whatever he was doing.

It was clear that Hermione wasn't getting past Alfred. She could never remain undetected long enough to get across the Common Room...and the sound of the portrait hole opening would alert him as well.

_'Might as well figure out what he's doing,'_ Hermione decided resignedly. She was too restless to sleep, and the curiosity was killing her. She moved along the stone banister, observing Alfred through the spaces between the ornate balustrades. She stopped when she reached an overlooking portion where she could safely observe the entire Common Room without being seen. She peered closely, and barely contained a gasp at what she saw.

Smoke from the fireplace, following an intricate trail that Alfred drew with his finger. His expression was utterly enraptured with this, as if it were new to him as well. He pointed his finger up at the ceiling and started to make steadily circling motions. The transparent smoke formed a slow moving funnel. He lifted his other hand over the shape and began to form a ball. He brought his hands together, dissipating the form.

Alfred looked at his own hands with wonder, and then looked at the fire. He stared at the fire, and it gradually began to dim. He made a grabbing motion at it, and pulled back. There was a sucking sound-like a vacuum, and the fire died completely, leaving only glowing embers and the dismal shaded lamps to light the now shadowed room. Alfred unclenched his fist, and the room felt warmer as a whisper of wind seem to travel through it.

Hermione recalled what she'd heard about Matthew, and how he'd frozen a troll solid with a mere gesture. She'd dismissed this as a baseless rumor before. But seeing this now...it wasn't so unbelievable.

Matthew controlled frost, and Alfred was...fire?

The American inhaled a gulp of air, and blew into the glowing ashes of the fireplace. There was a huge gust of wind, and the embers burst into life again, feeding upon the sudden reintroduction of life-giving oxygen.

Hermione blinked and revised her hypothesis. Alfred was manipulating the _air_.

* * *

><p>Harry, Ron, and Matthew climbed the ladder into the dim, stifling tower room. They all sat at the same rickety table together.<p>

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered, casting a wary eye around for Trelawney. She had a nasty habit of popping up behind people.

"Don't complain," Matthew muttered back. "It means we've finished palmistry."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at that. "Good, I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."

The class fell silent as the familiarly misty voice of Professor Trelawney exclaimed, "Good day to you all!" as she stepped out of the shadows with her usual dramatic flourish. Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball.

"At least _someone's_ excited," Harry commented quietly. His companions snickered.

"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," the professor stated, sitting with he back to the fire in the grate and gazing around at the class. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

"'The fates have informed her'?" Matthew whispered with a raised eyebrow. "Isn't she the one who sets the exam?" Harry and Ron barely choked back their laughs.

Professor Trelawney apparently hadn't heard them. She continued dreamily. "Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art...I do not expect any of you to See when you first peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and exernal eyes-"

Harry waggled his fingers mystically and blew out his cheeks while crossing his eyes. Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise. Matthew snorted quietly and shook his head.

"...clear the Inner Eye and the superconcious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of class."

And with that, they began. Harry felt extremely foolish, staring blankly at the crystal ball, trying to keep his mind clear when his friends were quietly joking and making funny faces behind the teacher's back.

Matthew leaned over the small table. "Some people in this class seem to have no problem with keeping their minds clear, because there wasn't much in them to begin with." He gestured covertly towards Lavender and Parvati, who stared at the crystal ball with their eyes glazed over like they were on some kind of drug. Ron giggled silently at this and Harry smiled briefly-only to quickly mold his expression into one of intense concentration as the Professor rustled past again.

After a quarter of an hour of this, Harry asked, "Seen anything yet?"

"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," Ron said, pointing. "Someone's spilled their candle."

"Wish I'd stayed behind with Al," Matthew said with a touch of regret. "Maybe something _interesting_ happened-"

Professor Trelawney came by again. "Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" she murmured.

"I don't need help," Ron whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight."

Harry and Matthew burst into fits of laughter. Everyone's heads turned in their direction at this sudden noisy outburst. Parvati and Lavender looked positively scandalized.

"Now, really!" Professor Trelawney scolded. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming.

"There is something here!" the Professor gasped predictably. She lowered her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. "Something moving...but what is it?"

Harry was prepared to bet everything he owned, including his Firebolt, that it wasn't good news.

"It is here," Trelawney breathed. "Plainer than ever before, my dear. Stalking towards you, growing ever closer...the Gr-"

"Do you ever have _good_ news?" Matthew asked suddenly. The moment this left his mouth, however, he clamped it shut and shot a mortified glance at his companions. It must've slipped out.

Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Matthew's neutral face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both shot the Canadian evil glares. Trelawney stood, and surveyed the Canadian with mild annoyance. "Mister Williams...I must say that the Inner Eye did not allow me to foresee this uncharacteristic outburst from _you_ of all people. I'd more expect such a statement from the unfortunately absent _Miss Granger_, but certainly not from yourself..."

Matthew bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I just...It's bothering Harry, for you to foresee his death whenever he walks into the class. Surely you could display your clairvoyant abilities with some _other_ prophesy?" He said all of this with the most wide-eyed and innocent expression ever faked. One wouldn't know that he was making it all up on the spot unless they'd observed his expression a few seconds before.

Trelawney faltered at this. If Harry didn't know better, he'd call her expression almost abashed. "My dear boy...I am sorry. The Inner Eye is such a burden, and even now I find myself telling what I see without consideration as to how it affects those of...the average mindset." She turned towards the now completely silent class. "Beware, children. For those of you who _have_ the gift, I foresee you find yourselves facing a similar issue someday. Even trained professionals such as myself can easily forget what is happening in the _present_ with their thoughts too occupied upon the _future_."

Harry was surprised to say the least. He didn't know that Professor Trelawney was actually..._nice_, behind her ominous prophesies. Still kooky, but honestly trying to help. Ron's eyebrows climbed steadily up his forehead as he watched the teacher warily, as if wondering if she were some kind of imposter.

"Class dismissed!" Trelawney exclaimed. "And remember to practice your mind-stretching exercises!"

* * *

><p>The Easter holidays were hardly relaxing. The third years had <em>never<em> had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.

"Back home, we don't get homework on the holidays," Alfred grumbled in the Common Room one afternoon. "'Cause no one would do it. Teachers eventually wised up and left our free-time to _us_."

"You can't call this a holiday!" Seamus Finnigan roared, throwing his quill pen in frustration. "The exams are _ages_ away, what're they playing at?"

"We can hardly complain," Matthew chided gently, looking over his book. "Have you _seen_ how much homework she has?"

"At least she quit Divinations before the holidays began," Ron said, his chin resting on his palm as he leaned on the small wooden table. "That makes it slightly easier for her, right?"

Harry glanced around the room, to see that Hermione still hadn't returned from the library. "She's _still_ taking more subjects than anyone else..."

As if on cue, none other than Hermione Granger stumbled into the room. She had shadows under her eyes, and seemed close to tears. She stopped, and blankly met all the concerned looks she was getting. She adjusted the strap on her bag, and disappeared up the Girls' Dormitory stairs without a word.

"I really worry about that girl," Alfred said quietly. "As her friends, we should make sure that she gets more sleep. This is just unhealthy."

"Agreed," Matthew replied solemnly. "No one let Hermione leave her dorm for a few hours. She's working herself to the ground, and we don't even have_ classes_ this week."

* * *

><p>Of course, no classes didn't mean no Quidditch practice. And Wood was working his team into the ground <em>daily<em>. What's worse was that this was regularly punctuated by long-winded tactics discussions with Wood. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading by exactly two hundred points. This meant that they needed to win the match by much more to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because the snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

"So you must only catch if we're more than fifty point us," Wood reminded Harry whenever they saw each other. "only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're-"

"I KNOW, OLIVER!" Harry yelled exasperatedly.

The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won in _so_ long...But Harry doubted that anyone wanted a victory more than he did. The enmity between Harry and Malfoy was at it's highest point yet. Malfoy was still smarting about the mud-throwing/all-american beat down incident at Hogsmeade, and was even more furious that they'd escaped punishment. But Malfoy's threats to Professor Kirkland, Alfred, Matthew, and Buckbeak, made him most determined to beat Malfoy in front of the entire school.

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, update! I'm so proud of myself! I think I'm supposed to be having writers block, but I'm steadily ignoring it and pressing on. I have an ancient technique to combat this unfortunate illness, you see.<strong>

**Thanks for all forms of support this story has received! I appreciate every form of notification that pops up in my inbox. Review? I can't gauge your reactions if you don't give me one!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	37. Chapter 37

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at a breaking point. Scuffles were breaking out in the corridors, leading to many trips to the hospital wing for both sides.

Harry was having an especially hard time with it. He couldn't walk to class without Slytherins trying to trip him. Crabbe and Goyle were popping up wherever he went, and slouching away in disappointment when they saw him with Alfred. Wood had specially requested that the American constantly remain by his side, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. Alfred had taken to his role of bodyguard enthusiastically, and seemed to enjoy sending dark glowers at any passing Slytherins who so much as _looked_ at Harry wrong.

Harry was really more concerned for his Firebolt's safety. Without it, he'd be stuck with a school broom...and that would not help Gryffindor's chances at _all_. When it wasn't in the air, it was securely locked in his trunk. He frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower to check that it was still there.

* * *

><p>All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor Common Room the night before the match. Even <em>Hermione<em> had put down her books for the moment.

"Hey, we finally get to see your face instead of a book cover!" Ron exclaimed surprisedly.

"I can't work," Hermione explained nervously. "I can't concentrate."

No one would be able to concentrate with the level of noise in the room. Fred and George Weasley were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were all laughing at the jokes told by the Weasley twins.

Harry was sitting with his friends, away from the center of things, and trying not to think about the next day. Every time he did, he felt sick with nerves.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Matthew voiced in response to Hermione.

Alfred peered closely at Harry's face. "You okay, bro? Ya look a bit green around the gills."

"I'm-uh, I'm fine..." Harry reassured unconvincingly.

The American regarded Harry with a deadpan expression. "Uh-huh, okay, we'll _totally_ go with that. Now what's wrong?"

"You'll do fine in the match tomorrow," Ron said confidently. "You've got a Firebolt! The fastest broom on the field!"

"Yeah..." Harry felt his stomach writhing. What if something went wrong?

It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

* * *

><p>Harry slept badly. First he dreamed that he'd overslept, and that Wood was yelling, "Where were you? we had to use Neville instead!" Then he was hovering over the Quidditch field, to see that the entire crowd was just hundreds of duplicates of Snape, and that the Snitch was covered in jagged icy spikes, rendering it untouchable, courtesy of a cackling maple-syrup starved Matthew that sat in one of the goalposts with his angry, tree-wielding twin. After that he dreamed that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team arrived for the match riding dragons. He was flying at breakneck speed, trying to avoid the flames licking out of Malfoy's steed's mouth, when he realized he'd forgotten his Firebolt. He fell through the air, the hard packed ground getting closer and closer and-<p>

Harry woke up with a start. It was a few seconds before Harry remembered that the match hadn't taken place yet, and that he was safe in bed. Slytherin team wouldn't be allowed to play on dragons, Matthew had _plenty_ of maple syrup now-courtesy of the house elves, and thank _God_ there wasn't that many Snapes in the world.

Harry's mouth felt dry and sticky from thirst. He quietly crawled out of his four-poster bed and went to pour himself from the silver jug beneath the window.

Alfred turned over in his bed and muttered in a thick accent. "Naw...I don' like soup...'s gross...no more..."

Harry frowned. Alfred had nightmares about _soup_? With his reaction to Dementors, one would think there was more disturbing things Alfred's brain could cook up. Harry shook his head and looked back out the window.

The grounds were still and quiet. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops of the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be perfect.

Harry set down his goblet and was about to turn back to bed when something caught his eye. An animal prowling across the silvery lawn.

Harry dashed to his bedside table, snatched up his glasses, and put them on, then hurried back to the window. It couldn't be the Grim. Not now-not right before the match...

He peered out at the grounds again, spotting the creature again, skirting the edge of the forest...Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a cat. He'd recognize that bottlebrush tail anywhere. It was only Crookshanks...

The cat came to a halt, and seemed to watch the forest intently, waiting for something. Harry pressed his nose against the glass of the window and squinted, trying to distinguish the shadowy form moving about in the darkness of the brush.

And just then, it emerged. A gigantic, shaggy black dog, moving stealthily across the lawn, Crookshanks trotting at it's side. Harry stared. What did this mean? if Crookshanks could see the dog as well, how could it be an omen of Harry's death?

The Gryffindor boy glanced around the dorm room, wondering if he should wake someone up. He glanced out the window again, to see that both animals had disappeared.

* * *

><p>Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. Harry couldn't help grinning broadly as he saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding as well. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed. Harry couldn't help but notice that Malfoy looked even paler than usual.<p>

Wood spent most of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried them off to the field before anyone else had finished, so that they could get an idea of the conditions. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Harry!" Cho, the Ravenclaw seeker, called. Harry felt himself blushing.

"Okay-no wind, which is good. Sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision. So watch out for it...the ground's fairly hard, good for a fast kickoff..."

Wood paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling out onto the lawn.

"Locker rooms," Wood ordered tersely.

No one spoke as they changed into their scarlet robes. Harry wondered if they were feeling as nervous as himself. Like he'd eaten something wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, "Okay, it's time..." He paused and took a deep breath before finishing with, "Let's go."

They walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP." Some of the most noticeable members of this crowd were the scarlet-clad Professor McGonagall, and a quietly smiling Professor Lupin sitting next to her. Along with Professor Kirkland, who wore a Gryffindor rosette and a smirk despite his dark green robes.

Two hundred people behind the Slytherin goalposts, wore green; the glittering silver serpent of Slytherin adorning their flags. Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like the others, his face twisted into a horribly grim smile.

* * *

><p><em>"And here are the Gryffindors!"<em> the acting commentator, Lee Jordan, yelled. _"Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet-"_

Hermione jumped when she heard Alfred's loud voice next to her ear. "WOOOHOOOOO! GOOOOOO GRYFFINDOR! KICK SLYTHERIN-ASS!"

Ron shot an incredibly annoyed look the American's way. "I can't hear the commentator with you _shouting_ like that, Alfred!"

"Well what am I_ supposed_ to do at a game?" Alfred inquired jokingly. "Be polite?"

Fourteen brooms rose into the air. The crowd roared. Two figures separated from the rest. One in red, the other in green. Harry and Malfoy were off in search of the Snitch.

_"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinner of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no-Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by-Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina-nice swerve around Montague-duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!-SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"_

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the stands went wild with delight.

There was a collective gasp as Marcus Flint went smashing into her. Alfred jumped to his feet. "NOT COOL, ASSHOLE!"

Matthew forced his brother back into his seat with a visible effort. "Don't let McGonagall hear you say that!"

Alfred looked at his brother moodily for a brief moment, before jumping to his feet and yelling incoherently in the general direction of the field to show his support for Gryffindor.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew-a penalty shot for each team. Silence descended on the crowd. Ron leaned forward in his seat. Matthew and Hermione watched with avid interest, watching Slytherin for any cheating. Alfred was practically vibrating in his seat as he waited impatiently for something to happen.

_"YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!" _

The crowd cheered, and rapidly quieted again as Flint flew to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood's hovering scarlet figure could be seen in front of the Gryffindor goalposts.

_"Wood's a superb Keeper!"_ Lee Jordan informed the crowd as the teams waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. _"Superb! Very difficult to pass-very difficult indeed-YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"_

Ron did a funny little victory dance in his seat, much to his friends amusement. But he clearly didn't care. This was Quidditch, and unmanly dances were perfectly acceptable here.

_"Gryffindor's in possession, no, Slytherin in possession-no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field-THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"_

Montague, a Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Katie, and grabbed her head instead of the Quaffle. Katie did a cartwheel in the air, but thankfully managed to stay on her broom. Though she'd dropped the Quaffle.

Madam Hooch's whistle rang out as she soared over to Montague and shouted at him. Katie had put another penalty past Slytherin a moment later.

_"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING-"_

_"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way-"_

_"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"_

Harry's figure could be seen to zoom towards the Slytherin end, Malfoy haring right behind him. A Bludger streaked past Harry's head, hit the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. The second Beater, Bole, was closing in. Harry could be seen to wrench his Firebolt straight up, causing the two Slytherins to collide.

The crowd cheered and chanted their support. The Slytherins booed harshly.

"IF YOU HAD BIRD BRAINS, YOU'D FLY _BACKWARDS_!" Alfred hollered at two Slytherin players who passed over their heads.

_"And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle-Flint alongside her-poke him in the eye, Angelina!-it was a joke, Professor, a joke-oh no-Flint in possession, Flint flying towards the Gryffindor goal posts, come on, Wood, save-!"_

Flint scored; there was an answering eruption of cheers from Slytherin bleachers. Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

_"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession-"_

It was rapidly becoming the dirtiest game they'd seen this year. Slytherins were resorting to any means to take the Quaffle, physical violence included. Gryffindors were retaliating in kind. Hooch gave both teams penalties, and the score ended up at forty points to ten. Gryffindor was in the lead.

"GO! GO! GRYFFINDOR!" Alfred chanted steadily. Soon the whole crowd was doing it-even Professor Kirkland.

Katie scores. Fifty-ten. Illegal attack on Wood; Gryffindor penalty. Now the score was sixty-ten. Alicia steals a Quaffle from under Warrington and puts it through the Slytherin goal. Seventy-ten, now.

Gryffindor's supporters screamed themselves hoarse. Ron jumped to his feet. "CATCH THE SNITCH, HARRY! CATCH IT _NOW_!"

Harry could be seen to put on a huge burst of speed. Malfoy surged forward and latched onto Harry's broom, slowing it down by pulling back.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle sharply and shot up to Malfoy, who was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan howled into the megaphone. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B-"

McGonagall wasn't even bothering to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger and shouting furiously at the pale Slytherin boy. Her hat had fallen off, revealing a pinched and angry expression that _no one_ wanted to be subject to.

Surprisingly, it was Matthew that jumped to his feet and roared louder than anyone had heard him yet. "YOU'RE NOT AN ATHLETE-YOU'RE A FUCKING DOGGER! A WASTE OF SKIN!"

Ron leaned away from the Canadian, surprised and a little fearful at his sudden and uncharacteristic outburst of vehemence.

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but missed by several feet because she was so angry. The team was losing concentration and Slytherin was catching up.

_"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal-Montague scores-"_ Lee groaned. _"Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor..."_

Harry could be seen on Malfoy's tail, marking him so closely that it was a wonder that they hadn't collided. Malfoy tried to turn, but Harry deftly blocked him.

_"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"_

Every Slytherin player save for Malfoy streaked up the pitch and towards Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper. They were going to block her. Harry made a sharp turn and kicked his Firebolt forward. He shot towards the Slytherins like a bullet. The Slytherins scattered.

_"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty points to twenty!"_

Harry skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field.

Malfoy's figure suddenly dived towards the ground, where a faint gold glimmer could be seen hovering a few feet off of the grass.

"HARRY!" Matthew yelled in alarm.

"GET THE FUCKING BALL!" Alfred boomed. Ron and Hermione both clutched their ears and watched the game anxiously.

Harry, as if hearing them, shot off towards the Snitch. He threw himself forward, knocking Malfoy out of the way with one arm and grabbing with the other. He pulled out of his dive and raised his clutched fist in the air victoriously.

_"YES! POTTER'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! THE GAME GOES TO GRYFFINDOR!"_

The team clumped together in embrace and sank down to the ground together. Alfred dashed from his seat and down the wooden stairs that would lead to the field, intent on getting ahead of the crowd. Matthew and Ron high-fived. They then each grabbed one of the Hermione's wrists and led her down to the field.

* * *

><p>Wave upon wave of crimson supporters poured over the barriers and onto the field. Hands rained down on their backs. Harry had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on him. Then he, and the rest of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Harry looked down and saw none other than Alfred single-handedly balancing him on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Hagrid, covered in crimson rosettes-"Yeh beat 'em, Harry! And Professor Kirkland-"Good <em>show<em>, lad!"

There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing even harder than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; Ron, Hermione, and Matthew fought their way towards Harry and Alfred. Words failed them. They simply beamed as Harry was borne towards the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.

If only there'd been a Dementor around...As a sobbing Wood passed Harry the Cup, and he lifted it into the air, Harry felt he could have produced the world's best Patronus.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! Slightly longer chapter! (mostly filler...) But more words! Huzzah! I <em>promise<em> that more is going on in the next chapter, though. Virtual pinky-swear.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favs! Filler or not, what'd you think of it? Reviews are usually the best way to tell me...**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	38. Chapter 38

"How the freak are you doing so many _exams_?" Alfred asked, seeing Hermione testing schedule on the table. "You can't go to two nine o'clock exams at the same time!"

"It's none of your business," Hermione snapped irritably. She sifted through the heaps of paper that surrounded her. "Has anyone seen my copy of _Numerology and Gramatica_?"

"Oh, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," Ron muttered to Matthew and Harry. He said this as quietly as he reasonably could, to avoid having Hermione explode on them-something that's been occurring more and more as of late.

"You sure you don't wanna take a break?" Alfred asked in concern. "You won't perform any better on the exams if you're sleep deprived and harried."

"I don't _need_ a break," Hermione grit out irritatedly. "I _need_ to study. I actually _care_ about my grades, unlike some people." She returned to her work, and refused to talk to any of them.

* * *

><p>They had Potions that afternoon, which was a complete disaster, as expected. Harry just couldn't get his Confusing Concoction to thicken. Snape, standing watch with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a zero before moving on.<p>

Alfred's pot kept threatening to boil over. Another zero.

Ron's pot was an odd shade of orange, with a rank smell that earned him a zero as well.

Matthew's and Hermione's potions were both flawless, and Snape couldn't dock them points for anything no matter how much he nitpicked.

* * *

><p>The History Of Magic exam was surprisingly easy. It was only one question: What events in muggle history affected the magical world the most?<p>

Harry managed to remember a few key things, which got him a decent sized paragraph.

Alfred and Matthew each had a respectable two-sheet answer for the question, which was surprising considering how Alfred _neve_r payed attention in that class.

Ron just managed to get his point across, while Hermione needed three more sheets of paper for her answer-and her writing was tiny.

When they stood to turn in their papers to Professor Kirkland, Matthew requested to speak with the professor after class, with Alfred. Kirkland raised one bushy eyebrow in askance. Alfred gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and Kirkland nodded briskly. The twins returned to their seats and acted as if nothing had happened.

Harry was suspicious, to say the least. It was probably nothing...but he still couldn't get the wriggling suspicion out of his head that something was _off_ about them. It's been bothering him for _months_. He hadn't really been able to investigate with everything that's happened this year, and Hermione'd stopped researching entirely for no apparent reason.

Something was up with those two. Perhaps he needed to be present for this private conversation as well.

* * *

><p>After class, students began filing out, and Matthew dragged his brother to Arthur's desk.<p>

"Now what's this about?" the green-eyed teacher asked. "I can count on one hand the number of times _you've_ wanted to talk to _me_ this year."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Aaaw, Iggy's lonely! Do I need to call up Frenchie so that he can make it all better?"

The Englishman scowled darkly. "If you do that, I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Multiple times."

Matthew released a long-suffering sigh. "Outdated rivalry _later_, please? This is kind of important."

Kirkland crossed his arms grumpily. "Alright, then," he huffed. "What is it?"

The Canadian cupped his hands together and blew into them softly. His breath condensed and became a jagged crystal of icy blue spikes resting in his palm. He looked at his brother. "Now you."

Alfred frowned in concentration and made a sweeping motion with his arm. A sudden gust of cool wind traveled around the room, following the general direction of his arm. Every candle went out, and loose papers scattered about and landed on the floor.

Arthur's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Interesting..."

"You're...not surprised," Matthew hazarded.

"I actually _am_." The Englishman maneuvered from behind his desk. "But not for the reason you may think." He plucked the somehow unmelted crystal from Matthew's palm. "Very few Na-er...very few of _our_ _kind_, can do this."

Alfred shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "So, this has happened before?"

"Oh, yes," Arthur responded. "Myself, Lukas, Vladmir, Yao...There might be others, but they either don't know or would rather keep it a secret."

Matthew looked at his hands curiously. "What causes it? How did we get these...abilities?"

Kirkland ran a hand through his hair, something that usually meant he was gathering his thoughts together. "Well...Some of us, especially the ones with more magic than others, find ourselves able to manipulate the classical element that has the most bearing on our land...You would be frost, or ice, obviously. With your location and geography. Alfred, though...I'd imagine it has something to do with high winds in the plains, or maybe even the frequent tornados in certain regions."

"Should we be worried about it?" Alfred inquired warily.

"Are you telling me that you don't enjoy your newfound power?" Arthur returned slyly.

Alfred looked at the floor. "I never said that, but...I don't know if I should be trusting random _gifts_ in case they turn out to be _curses_."

Arthur frowned at this. "I promise that it's natural, and only dangerous if you make it that way...Alfred, are you still getting blisters?"

The American removed his hands from his pockets and inspected them closely. "No...those stopped about a month ago. It's just..." He cut himself of and shook his head. "I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"_Al_fred," Matthew warned. " We've been over this. It won't get any better if you don't _talk_ to us! _Tell us what's bothering you._"

Alfred's hands went back into his pockets, and his shoulders tensed. He stayed quiet for a full minute before finally saying, "It...it feels...weird. I've sworn of magic for _years_. Anything even close to it was immediately categorized as _evil_ or _demonic_, or _unexplained phenomena_, in my mind." He made a grand gesture to his surroundings. "Suddenly, I'm in a _magic_ school. Learning about _magic_ things, with _magic_ people...I own a fucking _wand_ for Christ's sake!" Fists clenched, into his robes, he glared at the floor. "It feels _wrong_ but it feels _right_. It's _sacrilege_, but it's _natural_...I don't know _what_ to think anymore."

The room was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop.

Matthew slammed into his twin and wrapped his arms around him.

"Oof!" Alfred rocked from the force of the impact, and squirmed at the tight grip his brother had on him. "Ow...M-mattie...need...breath!"

The Canadian only tightened his vise-like hug. "I had _no_ _idea_...I never noticed...You're always with me-you _sleep_ next to me, and I never noticed..."

"All good," Alfred managed breathlessly. "Just...I need air!"

Matthew quickly released his brother. Alfred took in a gulp of life-giving oxygen. Arthur put a steady hand on Alfred's shoulder, something he hadn't done in a _long time_. "Lad, I am here to tell you, that magic is _not_ sacrilege. People have tried to convince me of that too. But I never listened. I could do it, which meant that it was a part of my very being. Something I could not ignore. Hundreds of years, actively practicing magic, and I have _still_ have yet to be smote by an angry archangel."

The American looked up at him with an extremely youthful and wide-eyed expression. Arthur released the boy's shoulder and clasped his hands behind his back. "Now, as your friend, your former mentor, your elder, and your _professor_, I prescribe that you _stop_ feeling so damned conflicted about yourself and just _deal_ with the fact that _you_ _can do magic_."

* * *

><p>Harry peeked around the stone column to see that no one was currently facing the door. He crept out, as quietly as he could. When he made it to the first turn off, he began to run. Bits of the conversation ran through his head.<p>

_'...Few of _our kind_ can do this...'_

_'...With your location and geography...'_

_'I've sworn off of magic for _years_...'_

_'...or maybe even frequent tornados in certain regions...'_

_'...I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Multiple times...'_

_'...Hundreds of years...'_

He needed to tell Ron, or Hermione, or Dumbledore, Percy, _somebody_. Snape hadn't been lying. None of them were human. They were hiding something.

Harry felt his face twist into a scowl. He trusted them. They shared a bloody _dorm room_. And they lied about their very _natures_?

He slowed down as he approached the Gryffindor Tower. What now? Best not to let on that he knows yet. He'll go straight to the highest authority. He'd go to Dumbledore tomorrow. Surely the headmaster can take care of a couple intruders.

Harry mumbled the password, entered the Common Room, and plopped onto the chair nearest the barren fireplace. He shivered, and it wasn't from any cold. Almost a whole year, and he'd never caught on. What if they weren't 'protectors', like he'd heard? What if they were in league with Sirius Black? What if they were just nuts? What could've happened, if he hadn't put the pieces together?

The Gryffindor boy curled up on the chair dejectedly. If only Malfoy hadn't figured it out first.

* * *

><p>The day was winding down to a close when Ron finally got away from the accursed Library. He trudged into the Common Room tiredly, and saw Harry already curled up by the fireplace. He sat down in the chair nearest his friend and released a loud sigh. "The Library is an awful place to study. Smells like moldy books in there. And the librarian seems to have taken a special disliking to me for some reason. Though it <em>could<em> just be me...studying is just plain horrible, as far as I'm concerned."

Harry removed his head from betwixt his folded arms and regarded Ron silently, seeing but not really seeing. He blinked and looked at the cold fireplace. "...What time is it?" he asked hoarsely.

"It's almost eight," Ron answered, his brow creasing with worry. "Are you alright, mate? We were all supposed to meet us by the lake, but you weren't there...you should've seen Alfred! He said skipping rocks was getting boring and threw a _boulder_ into the lake instead!"

It was as if Harry hadn't heard him completely. The black-haired boy frowned lightly. "Almost seven? I didn't realize..."

"You didn't come down for dinner," Ron said, his voice quieting a bit. "We thought you might've gone to the Library, but we couldn't find you there either." He peered closely at his friend. "I'm not a doctor, but you _do_ look kind of sick. Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?"

Harry shook himself and gave Ron an unconvincing smile. "No, no. I'm just...tired. With all the exams and everything."

Ron, though not quite believing it, decided to go with it for now. "Oh, alright then. Perhaps you should go lie down? I think I'll be joining you momentarily...final exams _are_ exhausting."

Harry looked idly in the direction of the stairs that would lead to the Dormitories. "I don't think I _can_ sleep...not with _them_ in the room."

Ron tilted his head to the side confusedly. "'Them'? Who's 'them'?"

"Have you listened to them talk?" Harry continued quietly, barely acknowledging Ron's question. "When they think they're alone. It all becomes a bit clearer..."

"Harry, you sound positively mad," Ron interjected. "Seriously. Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey?"

The disturbed boy suddenly settled a sharp gaze on Ron. "Listen to me. They'll be coming back soon. We are going to act like we're asleep when they come into the room. Listen to them talk to each other. I think that Hogwarts has been infiltrated."

"Infiltrated?" Ron was suddenly all ears now. "By who? You don't mean Sirius Black, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I think we've been infiltrated by Alfred and Matthew."

* * *

><p>Matthew and Alfred entered the Boys' Dormitory, dropping their book-laden bags next to their respective beds. Alfred looked around, seeing Ron and Harry's sleeping forms covered by blankets. "I like their idea," he muttered quietly to his brother. "We should go to bed too..." He began the process of undressing himself.<p>

"Mhmm," Matthew responded tiredly, following his twin's example. "It's been a long day..."

Both were silent for a moment as they got into their pajamas and jumped into their beds. Matthew looked at his overflowing bag of books and papers on the floor, and let out a quiet stream of laughter. "_Exams_...never thought I'd have to do anything like that. It's supposed to just be a human thing, right?"

"Totally," Alfred grumbled. "I can see why they're always griping about them, now...wish I'd thought of that before I agreed to come here."

"Arthur needed help. He couldn't reasonably do it on his own," Matthew reminded him.

"I bet Harry would've been perfectly safe without us," Alfred reasoned. "Somehow, I bet it would've _all_ worked out in the end. He's a good kid, smart too. With great friends."

"Although faculty support is rather lacking," the Canadian sighed. "And I hear his summers are less than pleasant."

Alfred laid back on his pillow. "Yeah, you got a point there..."

"If nothing else, this trip has helped _you_," Matthew continued. "Remember you can talk to me if you still feel bothered by any of this."

"Thanks, Mattie," Alfred said softly. "That means a whole lot to me, it really does. But I think the ball's in my court now. I've gotta finish off this stupidly complicated trauma shit on my own."

Matthew regarded his brother for a full minute, before a small, supportive smile graced his expression. "Okay, Al." He clicked the lamp off, and plunged the room into darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay! Elemental powers explained to the best of my ability! In all honesty, though, the weird ability thing was absolutely a <em>spur-of-the-moment-what-the-hell-do-I-put-here<em> thing. But I think I'm incorporating it into the plot okay-ish. **

**And yes, I think Harry would be a naturally suspicious kid, considering how his life has played out so far. With neglectful caretakers and certain figures of authority(cough, cough, Stumbledrunk) who seem to withhold all the important information until everything has already panned out. He's also rather emotional, which means he would _love_ to be able to trust these _awesome_ twins that walked into his life. But in the same token, he doesn't want to be lied to anymore.**

**Thanks for everything you guys have done to support this story so far! Leave a review and tell me what you think? Pwease?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	39. Chapter 39

_Alfred was in a train station. A familiar one, Platform 9 and 3/4, but at the same time, it was unfamiliar. _

_The place was completely dark. No light except for the weak filtered moonlight from the yellowed glass panes above him, further weakened by fog and mist. Barely enough for him to pick out vague details from the abstractly shadowed objects surrounding him. There was no laughter of children as they reunited with their long-lost school mates. There was no throng of oddly dressed and magical people going about their daily business. The vendors' stands and shops were completely vacant. There was just him, a train station, and the occasional whistle of cold wind._

_Alfred, having nothing else to do, walked along the platform, following the train tracks. Each step echoed hollowly about him, a reminder of how alone he was. _

_There was a scuffle behind him. He quickly turned around, prepared for anything. _

_There was nothing there. The wind moaned. Something creaked. He turned around again-_

_A shadowed figure stood ahead, completely still. When did they get there?_

_"Hello?" _

_The figure turned to flee. Alfred caught a familiar bobbing of curled hair._

_"Mattie?" _

_The Canadian ran off, his figure partially clouded by mist as he got further away. Alfred immediately gave chase._

_"Matt!"_

_Matthew stopped as quickly as he started. He swiveled his head to look at Alfred over his shoulder, his glasses gleaming in the moonlight. He looked at the train tracks._

_Alfred followed his line of sight, and saw the dark silhouette of the Hogwarts Express looming over them. It hadn't been there before. Alfred suddenly felt chill. A sense of foreboding exuded from the great steam engine. The train just felt..._wrong_._

_Matthew disappeared into the locomotive. The American ran to catch up. He jumped into the car Matthew had entered, and looked around. Every compartment was empty, with the sliding doors and windows all open, leaving the train cold from being essentially bared to the elements. Alfred looked down the center isle. The door to the next car was open. He ran down the narrow, carpeted hall and burst into the next section._

_Matthew was there, his back to Alfred as he stared at the door going to the next car. _

_Alfred approached carefully. "Matthew?"_

_No response from the Canadian. Alfred put a hand on his brother's shoulder-it was ice cold. "Are you...okay, Matt?"_

_Matthew hunched his shoulders and began to shake. Little burbles of mad laughter escaped him. "No...No, I'm not okay. You should know...you did this to me, after all." _

_Alfred removed his hand and stepped back a bit. "Wha-?"_

_The Canadian burst into movement, making a sharp turn and gripped Alfred's arms. His hair was charred, and half of his face was a angrily burnt mess of blackened tissue and bone. "You BURNED me!" he cackled. "YOU! Who HATES FIRE! YOU BURNED ME!" He roughly shoved Alfred to the ground._

_The American looked up at Matthew fearfully. "I-I'm-"_

_Matthew cut him off with a snarl. "DON'T say you're sorry! FEEL MY PAIN!"_

_Alfred blinked, and a Matthew had been replaced by a Dementor. He screamed as he was flooded with horrible memories that were better buried in the past._

_Every war, every bit of pain inflicted upon him. It engulfed him. Hundreds of years of death, rage, war, destruction, betrayal, guilt, anger, sadness, hate, and pain all at once._

_But the things that hurt the most, were the burnings._

* * *

><p>Matthew groggily woke up to the sound of loud creaking and cracking sounds coming from next to him. He looked over and saw Alfred thrashing violently in his bed. "No, no, no, stop it-PLEASE GOD NO!" He let out a short scream and thrashed even harder.<p>

Several figures shot up in their beds. Seamus clicked his light on. "What the _bloody hell_ is wrong with him?!"

Matthew scrambled out from between his sheets and ran to grip his brother's shoulders. He shook him roughly. "Wake up, Alfred!" He slapped him hard across the cheek. _"Wake up!"_

Alfred's frantic blue eyes popped open. He saw Matthew and started to struggle again. "Get away from me!"

_"Alfred,"_ Matthew repeated firmly. "You're _fine_. It was just a dream!"

The American stopped and scanned Matthew's face, as if looking for something. He immediately calmed down. "Oh..."

An awkward silence fell over the room. Matthew glanced over to see Ron and Harry exchange a significant look. He filed that information away for later.

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?" Neville asked, looking thoroughly freaked out.

Alfred looked down at his lap, still looking a bit shaken. "N-no. I'm fine. Just a stupid dream. Must've eaten too much before bed."

Matthew frowned. His brother usually didn't allow nightmares to bother him so easily...how was this worse than the others? "Okay, Al...try to get back to sleep then, I guess."

"And avoid causing nightmares in the future," Seamus advised. "I don't think your bed can take another one."

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron woke up earlier than anyone else so that they could go to McGonagall's office before breakfast, seeing as how they didn't actually have the password for Dumbledore's.<p>

Harry urgently knocked on the nondescript wooden door. The professor's voice could be heard from behind but a few moments later, bidding them to enter.

The two Gryffindors entered McGonagall's sensibly-yet-warmly decorated office. The professor herself sat behind her desk, nothing suggesting that she'd only recently woken up. She was busily writing something that looked suspiciously like a rough draft for an upcoming worksheet.

"Um, Professor?" Ron asked timidly, clearly uncomfortable.

McGonagall looked up from her work and arched one eyebrow. "Oh, dear. It's you two...did something urgent happen? Is there some secret you wish to know that I am probably not at liberty to divulge?"

Harry quickly shook his head. "No Professor, nothing like that-well, not _exactly_ like that, anyway...This is about Alfred and Matthew."

McGonagall sighed heavily and set her quill pen down. "Did Alfred cause damage to school property again?"

Ron scuffed his shoe against the red carpet. "Er...Alfred...isn't...He isn't _human_, Professor."

"And neither is Matthew," Harry added.

McGonagall's neutral expression didn't change. "And?"

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and clenched his fists. "You _knew_?" he asked tightly.

"Why yes, Potter," McGonagall answered quietly. "I did. Does this bother you?"

"It does if they were hired by Dumbledore," Harry said darkly. "I'm not made of glass, Professor. I don't need bodyguards."

McGonagall regarded Harry silently for a full minute. She said, "I'd like to think that the headmaster wouldn't choose bodyguards with a talent for destruction and absolutely _boyish_ immaturity."

Harry frowned inwardly. Snape had said otherwise, and here was McGonagall, directly contradicting him. Maybe Hermione was right about Snape lying?

Ron looked confused. "So...Dumbledore _didn't_ hire them?"

McGonagall shook her head slightly. "No, he most certainly did not."

"But...you knew they weren't human," Ron continued, "and that they _probably_ weren't here for the curriculum."

McGonagall sighed again and stood up, straightening her robes. "I'm inclined to disagree. Mister Jones was _sorrowfully_ lacking in magical education-Williams needed some decent tutelage as well. Professor Kirkland was aware of this, and decided to take them with him to Hogwarts when he applied as a teacher here."

Harry wasn't totally convinced. "But have you heard them _talk_? When they think they're alone? There's obviously another reason they have for being here, and I think it has something to do with Sirius Black!"

McGonagall looked at Harry closely. "And what makes you think that?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and closed it again. What _did_ he have to connect them to Sirius Black? Timing? Coincidence?

"If anything they've been nothing but a help, and some very good friends to you," McGonagall reasoned. "If they wanted to hurt you, they would've done it _long_ before final exams. So even if their intentions _are_ related to you, they've proved themselves to have only good ones."

Harry and Ron both suddenly felt rather guilty. Alfred and Matthew _had_ been great friends. Harry actually kind of still owed Alfred for catching him when he fell from his broom. Malfoy's presence had been nearly nonexistent since the twins started school.

The Professor's usually stern expression softened just a fraction. "I know the stress is getting to you, Potter. But the last thing you need to be doing right now is doubting the people closest to you. " Her expression hardened again. "Now get to the Great Hall, I want you both completely energized and prepared for you examinations today."

Both boys nodded quickly and quickly left the office. Ron looked at Harry shamefully. "I feel like a positively _awful_ friend now..."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah...let's not mention the fact that we know they aren't human, for now."

"Why?" Ron questioned. "If it's no really big _deal_ then-"

"Just don't," Harry interjected sharply. "I know it's weird, but something's telling me that it'll be better this way."

* * *

><p>Hermione looked up from her meal to see Ron and Harry coming down the isle. "What took you two so long?"<p>

"Needed to talk to McGonagall," Ron said shortly, sitting down and already reaching for food to pile onto his plate.

"About what?" Matthew asked curiously.

Harry grabbed for the last bit of eggs. "Er...exam stuff. We were hoping to get a clue about what would be on it."

Alfred let out a short bark of laughter from behind his heaped plate. "Didn't go too well, I take it?"

Ron shook his head forlornly. "Not even a hint. How do I know if I studied the right things?"

"By passing the exam?" Matthew offered. "That's kind of what exams are _meant_ for."

Ron looked about to respond, but Alfred cheerfully cut him off. "Eat, eat, eat! We've got a big day ahead of us. First test is Defense Against The Dark Arts!"

* * *

><p>Professor Lupin had put together what was probably the most interesting exam Harry would have that day. It was all outside-an obstacle course, of sorts. They had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.<p>

"Excellent, Harry," Lupin muttered as Harry climbed out of the trunk with a grin. "Full marks."

Flushed with his success, Harry hung around to watch his friends. Matthew popped out next, looking a bit disturbed, but otherwise no worse for wear. He looked to the teacher, a wry smile forming on his lips. "I have a theory, that Boggarts are just being mean on purpose because they're bored out of their minds. It must be why they always pick _household objects_ in _populated areas_ to live in."

"Your theory has been duly noted and taken into consideration," Lupin chuckled.

Ron came immediately after with a purely satisfied expression. "No spider is scary with a tutu and high heels!" he proclaimed.

Lupin smiled at this. "Good for you, Ron."

The it was Alfred's turn. He stumbled out of the trunk, sending an irritated glare back at the thing. "_Not_ cool, jackass!"

"Did it give you any trouble?" Lupin asked concernedly.

Alfred huffed and folded his arms. "Damn thing showed me _three_ fears. And not minor ones, either! I hope it got a _headache_ from all the times I cast a spell at it!"

Lupin shrugged. "Boggarts do what they will. You passed, if it makes you feel any better."

Hermione was the last one out, and she came out screaming.

"Hermione!" Lupin exclaimed, startled. "What's the matter?"

"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. "Sh-she said I'd failed _everything_!" She broke down into sobs again.

It took a while to calm Hermione down. When at last she had regained a grip on herself, she, Harry, and Ron went back to the castle. Ron was still slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione's Boggart, but an argument was averted by the sight that met them on the top of the steps.

Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was staring out at the grounds with a thoughtful look on his face. He started at the sight of Harry.

"Hello there, Harry!" he said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"

"Yes," Harry said politely.

"Your the Minister of Magic dude, right?" Alfred questioned. "One of Iggy's bosses?"

Fudge blinked and looked at Alfred. He then looked at Matthew, and something seemed to click in his mind. "Oh! You two must be Am-er, Alfred and Matthew! It's _such_ a pleasure..." He came forward and shook both of their hands in turn.

Ron and Hermione, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, hovered awkwardly in the background.

"Hello, Minister Fudge," Matthew said with a polite smile. "Arthur admittedly doesn't talk about you much. But from what I've seen here the, English Wizarding Community is doing _quite_ well under you."

Harry was beyond his depth now. Why was Fudge so interested in Alfred and Matthew? He stepped back to join his friends and observe the proceedings.

"I'd like to think so," Fudge said graciously. He looked at Alfred. "I happen to have some dealings with the United States Wizarding Community, and have always wondered at your curious absence from it. Will we be seeing more of you?"

"Maybe," Alfred said with a noncommittal shrug. "My ah..._area_ of responsibility is rather large as it is. I may check in now and then-I'd _love_ to get more involved with magic-but I'll probably still be rather scarce."

Fudge inclined his head. "I understand. Arthur tends to be hard to catch as well. But remember to check in with your Secretary of Magic occasionally. It makes it _much_ easier on us all."

"I make no promises," Alfred said cheekily.

"Ah, Minister Fudge?" Ron interjected suddenly, stepping forward. "What are you doing here...sir?"

"I'm here to check on the Black situation," Fudge said, casting an eye over the lake. "And I'd like to talk to Arthur as well."

The clock tower chimed solemnly in the distance, indicating the official end of the hour. Fudge blinked and withdrew a pocketwatch from his pocket. "Oh, dear. I'll be late for my appointment with the headmaster..." He placed the timepiece back in his pocket. "Another time, Harry! Alfred, Matthew!" He turned and started up the path towards the castle.

The five friends looked at each other. Hermione looked at the twins curiously. "You know...the Minister seemed _really_ interested in you two..."

"Arthur works in the government," Matthew shrugged.

"Fudge thinks that we're destined for government jobs equivalent to Artie's. And we can't make a bad impression on his boss." Alfred added. He glanced in the direction of the castle. "I dunno about you guys, but I'm starvin', and it's lunchtime. Let's go to the Great Hall already before all the good food's gone!"

* * *

><p><strong>YAY! New chapter! And it is fast approaching the final confrontation...hehehe...<strong>

**Random insert of personal life: Seahags lost, Patriots won. Hahahaha! I dislike both teams. But out of the two, I was rooting for the Patriots. And I walked into my room to see my FATHER reading the UNEDITED version of this story I have saved on my computer...I was properly horrified. **

**Thanks for all of your reviews, favs, and follows! It's a great feeling to know someone enjoys your writing. So...review? Please? Pretty, pretty, please?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	40. Chapter 40

"Arthur?" came a familiar voice through the half open door.

The green-eyed professor debated trying to hide under his desk, but thought better of it. That was such an obvious hiding place, and he didn't think that he could reach the closet across the room in time. "Come in, Minister," he sighed.

Fudge slipped inside and shut the door behind him. "I need to talk to you."

"Of _course_ you do," Arthur muttered sourly. He reluctantly raised himself from his comfortable office chair, and firmly shook Fudge's hand. "To what do I owe this pleasurable visit?" He stayed standing. Could the window against the back wall provide a good avenue for escape?

Fudge fiddled with his hands a bit, as if considering how to phrase his next sentence. Arthur waited, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Why did you_ really_ come here?" Fudge finally asked. "I know it's not for a vacation. Especially since you have two of your ah..._colleagues_, attending as students."

"Perhaps you_ already_ know," the Englishman suggested shortly.

Fudge was silent for a moment, eying Arthur as one would a reared cobra. "...What made you think that Harry Potter needs anymore protection? The Dementors-"

"Should be dismissed from the school," Arthur interrupted, anger creeping into his voice. "I don't _care_ if Black's escaped from prison. I care about my next generation of wizards being unalterably traumatized! These creatures are intended for _criminals_ being housed in the most miserable prison on earth!_ They should not be here._"

Fudge flinched back at the Nation's venomous tone. "I know, Arthur...I know. But what else could I do, really? Black is bound to strike here, but we don't exactly know when he may...show up."

"Which is why _I'm_ here," Arthur practically hissed. "With two of my _strongest_ and most _reliable_ allies to accompany Harry Potter nearly every second of the day. You may be a passable politician for times of peace. But it times of war...I find it safer to take my fate into my own hands."

"War?" Fudge frowned. "There _is_ no war. _One_ of the Dark Lord's old followers escaping from Azkaban doesn't constitute as an all-out _war_!"

Arthur blinked and stared at the Minister incredulously. "You really don't know?...Or are you just trying to ignore it and hope it will all go away?"

Fudge's expression became stubbornly closed. "There is-no-_war_, England!" He stamped his foot for emphasis.

"I've been around for _centuries_, Cornelius!" the green-eyed Nation snapped. "Do you think that I don't know a war brewing when I see one?!"

Fudge fumed at the professor. England stared back impassively. The Minister turned on his heel and left the room without another word.

* * *

><p>Harry, Ron, Matthew, and Alfred walked up the marble staircase together towards their last exam, Divinations. Hermione had disappeared at some point-probably for her own exam in Muggle Studies.<p>

As they neared the classroom, they saw many of the class sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed them as they joined him against a wall behind the staircase. He had his copy of_ Unfogging the Future_ open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. He sighed unhappily and looked at them all imploringly. "Have any of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?"

"I think I saw my life flashing before my eyes as I died from boredom, once," Alfred said helpfully.

Ron snickered at this, and checked his watch. "I'll probably just make something up...any ideas?"

"The Grim," Harry decided. "I think that prophesying my own death might earn me a few extra points."

"The Apocalypse," Matthew suggested wryly. "That's always a good default one. I might actually go with that."

"I think I'll go with something more general, just be safe." Alfred mimed the action of peering into a crystal ball, complete with waggling fingers and a misty expression. "Vague shadows of...something. Chaos...fire...death...disaster...some time in the future..." He dropped the act, leaning back with a smile. "I think she'll believe it if I_ really_ act the part."

Neville looked up towards the classroom's trapdoor hopelessly. "Oh, dear...there go all the good ideas then..."

Matthew's expression brightened. "Oh, I have a _good_ one for you, Neville! Say that you see yourself...looking at your grades...and you see passing marks in the Divination Final!"

Neville's anxious expression was broken by the small smile forming on his lips. "That...actually sounds far-fetched enough to work."

The line of people outside the classroom slowly but surely shortened. Some students came out with a bounce in their step and a confident expression. Others, not so much. Neville came out looking downright terrified.

"What'd she ask?" Ron inquired.

"Did you do alright?" Matthew asked simultaneously.

"She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you anything, I'll have a horrible accident!" Neville squeaked. He pushed past them and ran off, clearly intent on getting as far away from Trelawney as possible.

"How convenient," Alfred muttered. "Ya know I'm startin' to think that she's no better than a roadside fortune-teller."

Parvati reappeared on the landing barely a moment later, looking _way_ too full of herself. "She says I've got the makings of a true Seer!" the girl informed them brightly. "I saw _loads_ of stuff...Well, good luck!" She disappeared down the hall.

"Ronald Weasley," said the familiar, misty voice over their heads. Ron grimaced and climbed the silver ladder out of sight.

Alfred sighed loudly and leaned heavily against the wall, looking out the sunny window longingly. "I hate being cooped up in a drafty castle all the time! Just look at the sky! Probably the only time I've ever seen any part of the United Kingdom in the_ sunlight_."

No one bothered to respond as their thoughts moved elsewhere, far away from castles, towers, and crystal balls.

Twenty minutes later, Ron finally reappeared on the ladder.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked him, standing up.

"Rubbish," Ron answered sourly. "Don't think she was convinced..."

"Alfred F. Jones," Trelawney's voice called.

The American winked at his friends. "Watch and _learn_, dudes." He climbed up the ladder and disappeared into the classroom.

"I hope his acting skills are better than mine," Ron said bemusedly.

Ten minutes later, there was a loud gasp, an odd thump, and excited chanting that no one could make out. Half an hour of this passed before Alfred reemerged, his grin somehow wider than before. "Hook, line, and _sinker_," he whispered to them conspiratorially.

"Matthew Williams," the Professor called a moment later.

Matthew turned and reluctantly climbed the ladder. His session only lasted fifteen minutes before he came out and said, "Definitely a passing grade, but I doubt it's a perfect score...she's really hard to fake out!"

Five minutes later, Trelawney's voice finally drifted down the ladder once again. "Harry Potter!"

Harry stood up. "I'll meet you all in the Common Room. Hermione should be back from her Muggle Studies exam by now."

The tower room was more stifling hot than ever before. The curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the thick fog of sickly sweet incense made him cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and tables to where Professor Trelawney sat, a large crystal ball set on the table before her.

"Good day, my dear," she said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the Orb...Take your time now...then tell me what you see within it..."

Harry bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing for this useless glowing rock to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing happened.

"Well?" Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. "What do you see?"

Harry mentally gave up an actually divining anything, and went with his backup plan.

"Er-" Harry said, "I see a dark shape...um..."

"What does it resemble?" whispered Professor Trelawney. "Think, now..."

Harry grimaced. He really didn't want to do this but...

"A dog," he said firmly.

"Indeed!" Trealwney muttered, scribbling keenly on the parchment perched upon her knees. "Oh, you poor, _poor_ boy...I must ask you to look closer. Is this dog...black, in color? Is there an aura of foreboding darkness emanating from it?"

"Y-yes," Harry said.

"Do you see yourself, pinned under it's paws, perhaps?" Trelawney pressed. "On the brink of death from injury?"

"No," Harry answered, starting to feel slightly sick. He didn't want to take it _this_ far!

"Are you sure?" Trelawney urged. "You don't see your mauled corpse lying on the ground, your blood staining it's jaws?"

"No!" Harry said again, wanting more than ever to leave this dreadful room with it's smell and it's heat. "It's...it's being beaten back...by a lion...and now it's gone."

Professor Trelawney sighed. "Well, dear, I think we'll leave it there...A little disappointing...but I'm sure you did your best."

Relieved, Harry got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke out behind him.

_"IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT."_

Harry wheeled around. The professor had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth hanging open.

Harry stepped back a bit. "S-sorry?"

But Professor Trelawney didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Harry was in a panic. Was she having a seizure? Did he need to run to the hospital wing?

Trelawney spoke again, in the same, harsh and rasping voice, quite unlike her own:

_"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. tONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT...THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT...BEFORE MIDNIGHT...THE SERVANT...WILL SET OUT...TO REJOIN...HIS MASTER..."_

Professor Trelawney's head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Harry stood there, staring, still prepared to run to the hospital wing if he needed to. The professor's head snapped up again.

"I'm so sorry, dear boy," she said dreamily. "The heat of the day, you know...I drifted off for a moment..." She shook herself a bit. "Did you say something?"

"I-...you..." Harry stopped. "N-nothing, Professor...I'll just be...going...now."

Harry climbed the ladder as fast as he could, and dashed down the spiral staircase, his thoughts going a mile a minute. Did he just witness Professor Trelawney make an _actual_ prediction? Or had that been her idea of an impressive end to the test? Either way, it was _way_ too creepy.

* * *

><p>Matthew glanced up from his book and peered at the clock. "Hermione <em>still<em> isn't back yet? The exam should be over by now."

Ron started at the sound of Matthew's voice, interrupting his light doze. "Oh, uh...I dunno...Maybe she went to the Library?"

"Now why would she do that?" Alfred wondered, his form sprawled lazily over a worn chair. "There's nothin' to study for!"

As if hearing them, the portrait door opened, and Hermione climbed in.

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded, twisting in his chair to get a better look at her.

The Gryffindor girl joined them, placing her heavily-laden bag on the floor nearby as she sat down in one of the empty chairs. "Sorry, I got caught up in a conversation with Professor McGonagall and lost track of time!"

"Oh? And what did you two talk about?" Matthew inquired curiously.

"...My schedule," Hermione answered evasively.

Alfred adjusted his position so as to see her better. "_Details_, please."

"She asked me how it was going with all my classes," the girl answered, brushing her hair away from her face, "and if I was still doing all right with everything."

Ron stretched his arms over his head languidly. "How _is_ that going, by the way?"

Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "It's...fine, I suppose."

Their conversation was interrupted when the portrait hole opened again. Harry appeared, his face flushed like he'd been running. His complexion was grey with anxiety.

"Is something wrong?" Matthew asked. "You look a little sick."

The black-haired boy shook himself and took a deep breath. "It's...it's nothing important-at least, I don't _think_ so. Trelawney, she uh...she went really weird on me. She froze in her seat-I thought she was having a seizure-and then she said something about Voldemort returning to power with his servant to back him...and her _voice_ when she said all this. It...it wasn't her own."

"Are you sure she wasn't just doing it to frighten you?" Hermione inquired, her tone heavily laden with skepticism.

"She _is_ kind of a kook, you know," Ron added hesitantly.

"I don't know," Harry admitted quietly. "It just...scared me, I guess. She's prophesied my death millions of times, but...it was different this time."

Everyone in the room became very quiet as they pondered this. Was Trelawney's newest prediction worth considering?

Alfred broke the heavy silence. "Dudes, the weather is awesome and the exams are _over_! We should be _celebrating_, not worrying over shit crazy chicks say!"

"Agreed," Ron said, his expression brightening at the prospect of leaving the castle. He stood up with a stretch. "Let's go out and do something!"

"What do you have in mind?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"We could go see Hagrid," Matthew suggested. "He's probably finished giving exams by now."

"I _like_ it," Alfred decided, jumping from his seat. "I need to talk to him about Buckbeak, anyway."

Thus decided, the five friends gathered themselves to go. On a whim, Harry dashed upstairs and grabbed invisibility cloak last-minute, stuffing it into his bag.

Who knows? He may end up needing it.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank GOD fanfiction's letting me access my account again. This chapter's been waiting, borderline complete, for nineteen hours. But I couldn't <em>do<em> anything about it until that damned 503 error message was gone. I was reduced to griping about the situation on the 'isitdown?' website with a bunch of other ticked-off authors.**

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews, everyone! I take a moment to appreciate every single one.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	41. Chapter 41

When they got out of the castle, the sun was setting. Students who'd been out on the grounds were returning, not willing to stay out past curfew.

"I didn't realize how late it was," Matthew said. "Should we really go to see Hagrid? It'll be dark by the time we get there...We could get into a _lot_ of trouble for it..."

"'Specially you, Harry," Ron said. "With Sirius B-"

"Don't worry," Harry said, cutting the redhead off. He didn't need to be reminded about Sirius Black after today's events. "I brought the invisibility cloak." He pulled it out of his bag, unfolding the shimmering fabric and showing his friends.

"Sweetness," Alfred said. "Okay, everyone under the cloak before someone looks this way!"

They huddled close under the cloak in the dying light, making their way towards Hagrid's hut. The setting sun gilded the top branches of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, shadows creeping out across the ground menacingly. The air was already getting a bit cooler.

They reached Hagrid's cabin and knocked. He was a minute in answering. He opened the door holding a huge crossbow, his expression showing confusion and wariness as he glanced around for his visitor. Understandable, given the circumstances.

"It's us," Harry hissed. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered, lowering the weapon. He stood back and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door and bolted it sharply. Harry pulled the cloak off, bringing all five of them back into the visible spectrum.

Hagrid heaved a gigantic sigh. "Ah, well. Since yer already here...Wan' some tea?" He reached for the kettle.

"Hey, how's Buckbeak?" Alfred asked. "You getting any more trouble from the higher ups?"

Hagrid's hand shook slightly as he spilled some milk on the table as he filled up the jug. "A-a little," he admitted. "Dumbledore tipped me off tha' Buckbeak's transport migh' get..._compromised_, if I'm not careful."

"'Compromised'?" Alfred echoed. "Is the committee so intent on killing Buckbeak that they're pulling _illegal_ shit now?" His voice held tinges of anger.

"Like I told ya before...They have it in fer interestin' creatures," Hagrid said hollowly. "And wi' Lucius Malfoy scarin' 'em into action..." The half-giant's grip tightened suddenly, and the milk jug broke into shards, covering the floor with milk and bits of ceramic glass.

"I'll do it, Hagrid," Hermione said quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean the mess.

"There's another one in the cupboard," Hagrid said tightly, sitting down and wiping the milk from his hands with a dirty rag. Harry and Ron glanced at each other hopelessly.

"Isn't there anything anyone can do?" Matthew asked, sending a worried glance in the direction of his uncharacteristically quiet brother. "Couldn't you go to the Minister-"

"No," Hagrid interrupted with a quiet rumble. "Fudge don' care. None o' the higher-ups care about the fate of one lil' Hippogriff. At leas' not enough to provide fer extra protection..." Hagrid swallowed, his eyes not coming up from his lap.

Alfred's fists clenched. "...No, Hagrid. There are those that _do_ care. The Secretary of Magic...owl him. Tell him the situation. Something tells me that he'll be willing to listen. I'll guard Buckbeak _myself_, if I must."

Hagrid looked up at Alfred, something akin to hope glimmering in his eyes. "You'd...you'd do that?"

"'Course I would!" the American answered confidently. "Ain't no one goin' mess with 'im while I'm around. Trust me."

Hermione turned from the cupboard she'd been rummaging through, a new jug in her hands. "This have something to do with that 'government position' you're..._being groomed_ for?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered easily, not bothering to elaborate any further.

Hagrid's relieved expression morphed into worry as something occurred to him. "Yeh need to go back to the castle now," he said urgently. "Fudge's here. If you get caught here without permission, Harry, yeh'll be in big trouble. I may even get _fired_ fer not escortin' you back righ' away!"

Hermione let out a small shriek of alarm. "Ron! Scabbers!"

Ron gaped at her uncomprehendingly. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione carried the milk jug in her hands over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

"S-scabbers!" Ron exclaimed, shock evident on his face. "Scabbers, what are you doing here? How are you even _alive_?" He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light.

Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out, leaving wide bald patches. He writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" Ron said in an effort to reassure the creature. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

The rat didn't seem inclined to agree. It went completely berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed. He tried to force Scabbers into his pocket. "We're going to go home, now-...W-what's the _matter_ with you, stupid rat? Stay still-OUCH! He bit me!"

The rat finally freed himself. It fell to the floor with a quiet thump and darted through a small hole in the wall that lead outside.

"Scabbers-NO!" Ron cried. He darted towards the door.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. But it was too late. Ron unbolted the door and pelted away into the darkness.

The four remaining friends looked at each other, and sprinted in pursuit. Alfred quickly took the lead, going by the sound of Ron's thundering footsteps. Matthew wasn't far behind. Harry and Hermione struggled to catch up to them.

"SCABBERS!"

"RON!"

"WAIT!"

"COME BACK, RONALD!"

There was a loud thud.

"Gotcha!"

Alfred and Matthew skidded to a stop. Harry and Hermione almost fell over them. Ron was sprawled on the ground, but Scabers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

"Ron-that...was incredibly stupid-" Hermione panted. "Hagrid...he'll be worried..."

"We need to go back," Alfred reasoned, somehow not even winded. "Hagrid'll undoubtedly gather a search party if we're out for much longer."

"A-a _search party_?" Harry managed nervously, still gasping for air. "Why?"

"He has to assume the worst," Matthew explained. "Thinking us lost, dead, or close to it. That's proper protocol for these kinds of things, especially with the heightened security. He'll probably know this better than most, since he's gamekeeper."

Hermione finally caught her breath. "Then let's-"

She was cut off by the soft pounding of gigantic paws...Something was bounding towards them, quiet as a shadow, from the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

An enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Harry reached for his wand, but too late-the dog made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he fell backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth-

Alfred burst into movement and picked the growling dog up off of Harry with a snarl of his own. _"BAD DOG!"_ He threw it away as easily as one would a rag doll, causing the beast to collide with a nearby rock that jutted from the ground.

Ron was on his feet in an instant. He moved in front of Harry, prepared to block the next charge. The dog skidded around for a new attack. The thing sprang forward, jaws snapping at Ron now-

Matthew pushed Ron aside, and the dog's teeth sank into Matthew's arm instead of Ron's neck. The Canadian grunted, but didn't cry out in pain, instead directing his energy at swift punches to the canine's snout. The brute began dragging Matthew away. All four Gryffindors leapt to assist their friend.

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione shriek with pain and fall as well. Alfred cursed and fell to one knee, clutching his arm. Ron yelled and fell on his rear with a thump.

Harry groped for his wand, blinking blood out of his eyes. _"Lumos!" _he whispered.

The wandlight showed him the trunk of a thick tree; they had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow. It's branches creaked, whipping every which way to stop them from coming any nearer.

And there, at the base of the trunk, was the dog, dragging a Matthew into a large gap in the roots. Matthew was struggling with all his might, making it rather hard for the dog, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight-

"Matthew!" Ron shouted. He surged forward, only to be forced back again by a heavy branch whipping lethally at his face.

All they could see now was one of Matthew's legs, which was hooked around a root as an attempt to prevent himself from being pulled farther underground. A horrible crack cut through the air, and it had nothing to do with the tree. Matthew's leg was broken. His foot vanished from sight.

"Harry-we've got to go for help-" Hermione gasped, trying to staunch the blood coming from a cut in her shoulder, courtesy of the Willow. "We'll never get through without help-"

_"MATT!"_ Alfred roared, his voice raw with anger and worry. The tree lashed at him again, but Alfred didn't dodge. Teeth bared in a determined snarl, he caught the swinging branch with both hands. The tree abruptly tried to pull away. Alfred dug his heels into the dirt and pulled. The Willow groaned in protest, whipping wildly as it tried to free itself. "GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR!" the American yelled.

This spurred them into frantic action. The tree focused it's attention on Alfred, giving them an opening to run forward and dive into the hole, and into darkness.

* * *

><p>Arthur glanced up from his paper and glared at the door in irritation. He had work to do...couldn't they just leave him to it?<p>

The knocking became louder and more insistent. Arthur sighed exasperatedly and rose from his desk, crossing the room and opening the door with a mighty scowl prepared for the unlucky person who decided to bother him tonight.

"Kirkland!"

Arthur leaned back in shock. "H-_Hagrid_? What are you doing here?"

The half-giant looked agitated to say the least. He was red in the face and breathing heavily, implying that he'd been running. "It's an emergency!" he said urgently. "Harry, Ron, Matthew, Hermione, and Alfred came to my hut-now I _told_ them to go back to the castle-but there was something about a rat, and Ron dashed out like a madman. His friends followed hm. Now they're somewhere on the grounds. They've been gone for an hour and_ I can't find them_!"

Arthur remained outwardly calm, careful not to give away the fact that he was both incredibly angry and extremely scared. "Have you told anyone else?"

"No," Hagrid answered. "Yer the first one. I'll go get McGonagall too-" He turned to go, but Arthur grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait," the Englishman said. "Don't tell anyone else. I can locate the twins' respective positions quite easily. There's no need for a search party. Go to bed. I'll take care of this myself."

Hagrid looked dubious. "Are you sure about this? They migh' be in danger!"

"If so, Alfred and Matthew are _quite_ capable of doing their jobs," Kirkland reassured him. "Just go home. Let me take it from here."

Hagrid blinked. "A-alright then. If yer sure..." He lumbered off, presumably in the direction of his hut.

Arthur closed his door, and felt his scowl returning. Damn it. Chances are that they're in terrible danger. Possibly injured. It was _never_ anything innocent with Alfred and Matthew involved.

He sighed and went to get his robes and wand. Good think he'd put a tracking option in those necklaces...

* * *

><p><strong>Lookie, lookie! Another chapter! Awesome, right?<strong>

**Thanks for all the support for this story...It's now 12:30am...I should go to bed now...**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	42. Chapter 42

They were in a dank, narrow tunnel. The only light came from their wands, and the small window of moonlight coming through the entrance. They began walking, following the fresh drag marks in the dirt.

"Where does this tunnel come out?" Hermione asked breathlessly from behind him.

"I don't know," Harry muttered in response. "It's marked on the Marauder's Map, but Fred and George said no one's ever gotten into it...It goes of the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade..."

They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double as the ceiling lowered. On and on went the passage; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes...All Harry could think of was Matthew and what the enormous dog might be doing to him...He drew breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch now...

The tunnel began to rise, Then it twisted. They turned the corner, revealing a patch of dim light through a small opening.

They paused, gasping for breath, edging forward with wands at the ready.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls. There were suspicious dark stains on the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though someone had smashed it in a fit of anger. The windows were boarded up.

"Guys," Ron whispered fearfully, "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."

Hermione surveyed her surroundings with wide eyes, taking in the door to their right that led to a shadowy hallway, and the remains of a dining table next to what was left of a small kitchen. "I think you're right."

Harry's eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; on of the legs had been ripped off entirely. "Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly.

There was a creak overhead. Something moved upstairs. They all looked up at the ceiling. Ron whimpered. Hermione gripped Harry's arm so tightly that he was losing the feeling in his fingers.

They crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase, as quietly as possible. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something dragged upstairs. The fresh smears of red on wood did not bode well.

They reached the dark landing, and extinguished the lights on their respective wands. Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard some shuffling and a short gasp. They exchanged a last look, a last nod.

Wand held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.

A magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings dominated the room. Matthew was laying on the floor beside it, clutching his awkwardly jutting leg.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione dashed across to him.

"Matthew-are you okay?" Ron asked frantically.

"Doing _great_," Matthew hissed painfully through clenched teeth.

Harry glanced around the room. "Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog," the Canadian answered shortly. "It's a trap-"

"What?"

"_He's_ the dog," Matthew explained. "He's an Animagus."

The door closed behind them with a snap. They all wheeled around to see a man step out of the shadows.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If it weren't for the eyes shining out of deep, dark sockets, he might've been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face that it looked like a skull. His yellowed teeth were bared in a grin.

Hermione and Ron lived up to their Gryffindor names, stepping in front of Harry protectively.

"Not one step closer," Ron warned, brandishing his wand.

Harry felt anger forming in his gut. There was no doubt about who this was.

"If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill us too, Black," Hermione declared.

Matthew's voice rang out from behind him, as deadly calm and unrelenting as a glacier. "If you kill Harry, I'll have to kill you as well. And I can't promise that I'll be nice about it."

"Brave talk for a boy who can't walk," Sirius Black rasped.

"Ah, but you underestimate me,_ human_." Harry looked back to see Matthew stand up, his broken leg shifting and straightening itself. His arm wasn't bleeding anymore, either. He exhaled, his breath condensing into white mist. "It takes a_ lot_ more than that to kill me."

Black saw something in those violet eyes that made him wary. "You...another security measure for Harry, I assume? A personal bodyguard hired by Dumbledore?"

Matthew's lips quirked into a small smile of amusement. "Dumbledore didn't hire me. Someone else asked me here along with Alfred to help Harry as a favor...but I'm mostly here to help my brother. Harry Potter's safety is my mission, but he has become my friend as well. _Double_ incentive to kill you if you so much as breath on him wrong."

Harry refused to look back at Matthew. This was just icing on the cake, really. Adding to his already abundant anger. He was right about the twins all along-but this would have to wait until later.

"No," Black muttered. "There will be only one murder tonight..."

Harry let out a harsh, near animalistic snarl as he lunged. "THEN LET IT BE YOU!"

He and Black collided into a wall. Harry gripped the man's rags, using his free hand to punch anywhere his fist could connect with. He'd forgotten about magic. He didn't consider that he was a skinny, thirteen year old, whereas his opponent was a tall, fully grown man. The only thing he focused on, was hurting Sirius Black. Hurting him as much as possible.

Black's hands found Harry's throat. "No," he growled. "I've waited to long for this..." His grip tightened, cutting off Harry's air.

Hermione screamed, her foot swinging from nowhere to connect with Black's groin. The man released Harry with a pained gasp. Ron caught Harry to prevent him from falling backward as he was released. Matthew took the opportunity to force Black to his knees with another well-placed kick. He roughly gripped Black's oily black hair and slammed the man's head against the wall for good measure before stepping back.

Black clutched his head with a moan, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry oriented himself and pulled out his wand. He stood over the man, pointing the wand straight at Black's heart.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" Black inquired with a demented chuckle.

Harry breathed heavily, the tip of his wand quivering. Would he do it? Could he do it? Did he have what it takes?

"Don't do it, Harry!" Hermione cried out fearfully.

Black chuckled at Harry's indecision. Harry pushed the wand closer into his face. He had to do it. This man...this man was at fault. _He_ killed his parents. _He_ was the reason Harry had lived out most of his childhood under a staircase with the Dursleys._ He_ was the reason that Harry couldn't stomach a Dementor's presence._ This_ was the man that destroyed Harry's chances at the life he should've lived.

So why hadn't he killed him yet?

* * *

><p>Arthur stood outside of the castle, overlooking the moonlit grounds. He held a silver chain before him, allowing the attached pendant to swing freely. His was an slightly more intricate than Alfred's or Matthew's. A rampart lion, with a snake coiled around it. He fed magic into the charm, causing it to glow green. Arthur focused on a mental picture of the twins' faces, and their necklaces.<p>

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as the charm finally started tugging. The spell was working. He'd been worried...he never bothered to field tested it.

It was pulling to the east of him...Arthur followed it. It tugged harder as he went, and the green glow became brighter as he got closer.

He eventually came to the Whomping Willow. But something was wrong. The tree seemed to be...caught on something. It was obviously doing it's utmost to free itself, shaking and groaning. Whipping it's free branches at whatever it was that held it.

The pendant pulled more insistently. Arthur sighed. What in God's name was he about to get into?

* * *

><p>"Yo, Prof!"<p>

Lupin openly stared at the sight before him. "A-Alfred? What are you doing here?"

"Arm wrestling a tree," the American answered through clenched teeth, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world. The tree whipped a branch, cutting a deep gash his cheek. Alfred adjusted his grip. "_No!_ That's a bad tree! Baaaad tree!"

The professor felt a wave of nausea, causing him to waver. Why did it have to be _tonight_? "You need to go back to the castle, Alfred. It isn't safe-" He jumped at the sound of a new voice behind him.

"Alfred, what the_ bloody hell_ are you doing?"

None other than Professor Kirkland stalked towards them, his wand gripped in one hand the other holding a glowing silver pendant. "Release the tree immediately!"

"I _can't_," Alfred shot back with irritation. "Friends inside. Have to keep the tree still for when they come out!"

The Englishman's prominent eyebrows furrowed angrily. _"What?"_

"A big black dog dragged Matthew in!" Alfred explained. "They haven't come out since-" The tree tugged, more roughly than before. Alfred grunted and pulled back sharply in response. "Hurry! I can't do this all day!"

Lupin's eyes widened. "A black dog?..."

Kirkland looked at him sharply. "What do you know of this?"

"Sirius!" Lupin exclaimed. He dashed towards the tree, diving into the tunnel without a second thought.

* * *

><p><em>"Expelliarmus!"<em>

Harry's wand flew out of his hand. He looked up to see Professor Lupin, his wand out and pointed at Black. Harry scrambled away, part of him couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Oh, Sirius. Looking rather ragged, aren't we?" Lupin crossed the room and stood over Black, his wand pointed at the man's head. "Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within."

Sirius Black didn't look terribly impressed. "Well you'd know all about the madness within now, wouldn't you Remus?"

Lupin dropped his arm and smiled. He helped Black off the floor. "It's good to finally _see_ you, old friend."

"It's been so long, Moony," Black nearly sobbed. "But I've found you...but finally..._let's kill him_."

"No!" Hermione yelled fiercely. "I _trusted_ you! And all this time...you'd been _his friend_."

Lupin and Black looked at each other. They said nothing.

"He's a werewolf," Hermione said, her voice full of undisguised hate. "That's why he's been missing classes!"

Something akin to shame flitted across the teacher's face. "...How long have you known?" He stepped towards them.

"Since Snape set the essay," Hermione answered, sidling back a bit. Matthew grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Lupin's tone was almost sad. "Well, well, well! You really _are_ the brightest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione-"

"Enough _talking_, Remus!" Black yelled. "Let's just kill him!"

"Wait-"

"I've done my waiting!" Black snapped hoarsely. "Twelve years of it-in Azkaban!"

Lupin became silent at this, looking down at the floor uncomfortably. "...Very well." He offered his wand to Black, who snatched it. "You can kill him. But first Harry has the right to know _why_."

"I _know_ why!" Harry stepped forward, his hands clenched into tight fists. "You betrayed my parents!_ You're_ the reason they're dead!"

"No he did not kill your parents!" Lupin yelled in response, stepping in front of Black almost protectively. "Someone else did! Someone who, until very recently, I thought was dead!"

"Who was it then?!" Harry demanded. "If not Black, then who?!"

"Peter _Pettigrew_!" Lupin spat, as if the name itself were poison.

"And he's in this room!" Black added. "Right now! Come out, Peter! Come out and play-!"

_"Expelliarmus!" _

The wand flew out of Black's hand and clattered as it hit the ground.

Kirkland stepped swept into the room, his wand in hand as he surveyed the scene before him. "Really now, Lupin! You couldn't have taken a moment to deactivate the damn Willow for Alfred? Do you_ know_ how long it took for me to find it's immobilizing knot?"

"Watch out, Professor!" Hermione exclaimed.

The green-eyed professor looked at them oddly. "Why?"

"Lupin's in league with Black!" Ron exclaimed.

Arthur blinked in surprise, but he didn't look terribly concerned. "...Oh, dear." He pointed his wand at Lupin. "Explain yourself, Remus Lupin." The room seemed to darken. A yellowish starburst of energy pulsated at the tip of his wand. "Now."

Lupin raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Now Arthur, there's no need for anything...drastic."

"My patience wears thin," Arthur said. "You'd better hurry-I've never had very much of that to begin with."

"Now, I don't know who you are," Black said, moving around his ally and stepping up to Arthur boldly. "But Remus and I have some urgent business to attend to. So if you'll excuse us-"

"One step closer," Kirkland warned flatly, "and the Dementors will be a _relief_ to you."

Sirius stepped back quickly, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

"Arthur,_ please_ be reasonable," Lupin almost pleaded, stepping towards the blond professor cautiously.

Kirkland pointer the wand at Lupin again, causing the werewolf to back off. "I don't feel terribly reasonable at the moment. I grow tired of these games. How about you go state your cases to the Dementors? Come along now."

Harry, seeing his chance for answers diminishing, snatched Hermione's wand from her pocket and pointed it in their general direction. "Tell me about Peter Pettigrew!"

"He went to school with us-we thought he was our friend. " Lupin said, looking between him and Kirkland warily.

"Didn't you kill him?" Kirkland asked, looking towards Black.

"No I didn't!" Black exclaimed. "I never killed him...but I wish I had! But now's my chance. He's right there!" He pointed at Ron.

"Me?!" the redhead spluttered. "Your mental!"

"Not _you_," Black said exasperatedly. "The _rat_!"

Scabbers fell out of Ron's pocket. Ron scooped the squirming creature up and clutched it to his chest. "What?! Scabbers has been in my family for years!"

"I know!" Black exclaimed. "Twelve years, to be exact!"

"Curiously long lifespan for a common rat," Lupin observed.

Black advanced on them. "He's missing a toe, isn't he?"

"So what?" Ron demanded.

Harry suddenly understood. The finger they'd found at the scene of the crime...

"So what?!" Black scoffed. "Well let me tell you! Pettigrew cut off his finger, loudly proclaiming that I'd betrayed the Potters, and staged his own death! He cast a smoke screen and slipped away...In the chaos that followed, no one would notice an inconspicuous little _rat_!" He glared darkly at the now squealing Scabbers. "A masterful and traitorous move that neatly tied _his_ loose ends, and _destroyed my life_!"

"Show us," Kirkland ordered.

Black tore the rodent from Ron's grip. It slipped through his fingers and made a mad dash for the door.

"Leave 'im alone!" Ron cried pitifully. "He's just a-"

Lupin shot a quick, wordless spell at the fleeing rat. Scabber's head shot upwards. His limbs sprouted from his elongating torso. A moment later there was a man sprawled on the floor where Scabbers had been.

He was extremely short, with thin and unkempt colorless hair around his large bald spot. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost an extreme amount of weight in a very short time. His skin was grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and his rat-like facial features made it easy to relate him to the rat. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

"Hello, Peter," Lupin said pleasantly, as if this happened every day. "Long time, no see."

Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky as he said, "S-Sirius...R-Remus. My friends...my old friends...!" He made as though he were going to embrace them, and quickly tried to push between them and towards the exit. They roughly pushed him back into the center of the room.

Pettigrew turned in a full circle, as if hoping for an ally in this situation. His small, wattery eyes rested on Harry. "H-Harry! Y-you look so much like you father...so much like James-!"

"How _dare_ you speak to Harry!" Black roared, advancing.

Pettigrew shot a short hiss at him and scurried to the other side of the room.

"_You_ sold James and Lily Potter to Voldemort?" Kirkland demanded impatiently.

"I-I didn't _mean _to..." Pettigrew whimpered, cowering against the wall under Arthur's frosty glare. "The Dark Lord...he has weapons no one could even dream of...what would _you _have done in my situation, Sirius?!"

"I would've _died_!" Black answered viciously. "I would've _died_ rather than betray my friends!" He began to advance on Pettigrew again.

The rat-like man scurried away again, making a bee-line towards Harry. Matthew silently stepped in front of Harry and pushed him back, causing Pettigrew to stumble and fall to the ground. "Stay there," he advised neutrally.

"You should've known, Peter!" Black yelled, standing over the disgraced man. "If Voldemort didn't kill you then we would!" He bent down and gripped Pettigrew's neck.

"Wait!"

Everyone froze. Lupin's head swiveled round to look at Harry, his expression one of faint surprise. "Harry..." he said slowly. "This man is the one who-"

"I know what he is," Harry interrupted tightly. "But we need to take him back to the castle."

"Why?" Black snarled, still holding Pettigrew's throat in his hands.

Kirkland nodded slowly. "He is correct. Peter Pettigrew must be alive, so that we can turn him into the officials." He eyed Black almost challengingly. "You _do _want to clear your name...don't you?"

Black released Pettigrew, his eyes wide as he straightened. "I...I'd...Of course!"

"I could pull some strings," Kirkland continued, almost to himself. "Have the case reopened...have you retried-"

"'Retried'?" Sirius scoffed. "I never even had a trial to begin with!"

Kirkland froze. "You...you didn't?"

"No," Black answered bitterly. "They just clapped me in irons and locked me away, first chance they got."

"Oh, shit," Matthew mumbled quietly.

Kirkland's left eye twitched, almost imperceptibly. "I...I see..." He shook himself, his stricken expression disappearing. "Let's get Pettigrew here to the castle, then. We need him alive-"

Peter raised his hands to them gratefully. "Oh, bless you! Bless you-"

"...for now," Kirkland finished, his very tone seeming to make the room a little darker. "Then the Dementors can have you."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh. My. GOD. You have no idea how hard this chapter was for me to write. And I <em>still<em> don't know if I'm happy with it! To make things worse, my computer's mouse isn't working anymore...which means that I have to use the terribly dated and finicky touchscreen on my monitor. This makes life hard for me, for I have chubby sausage fingers.**

**As you can see, the story is approaching it's end..._maybe_ within the next few chapters. Directly after this story, I will begin my next endeavor: an APHxATLA crossover. And after that...I think I might come back for a sequel. What do ya'll think about that idea?**

**Anywho, thanks for all the support, guys and gals! It really does keep me goin'.**

**Later dudes ^J^**


	43. Chapter 43

"Harry had never been part of a stranger group. Kirkland led the way down the stairs; Lupin and Ron came next, with Pettigrew held between them. Sirius came next, with Harry and Hermione bringing up the rear.

Getting back into the tunnel was difficult. Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron had to turn sideways to manage it. Harry could see them edging along the tunnel in an awkward, single filed line. Lupin was sure to keep his wand trained on Pettigrew.

"So Harry," Black began abruptly.

Harry looked up to see Sirius's crouched form ahead of him. Hard to believe he'd absolutely despised the man not even an hour before. "Yeah?"

"I don't know if anyone ever told you..." Black said hesitantly. "I'm your godfather."

"I know," Harry reassured. "I found out early on this year."

"You do know what this means," Sirius continued stiffly. "After I'm cleared...and free...Since I'm your legal guardian..."

Harry waited, not daring to breath. Did Black mean what he thought he meant?

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," Black said. "But...well...think about it. Once my name's cleared...if you wanted a...a different home..."

An odd explosion took place in the pit of Harry's stomach. "What-live with you?" he asked, almost afraid to believe it. "I'd get to leave the Dursleys?"

"Do you want to? Truly?" Black asked surprisedly. "Because I understand if you don't-"

Harry would've jumped for joy if it weren't for the low ceiling. "I-I'd love to! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

Sirius turned right round to look at Harry. His gaunt face broke into the first genuine smile Harry'd seen upon it. The difference was startling, as though a person ten years younger was shining through the starved and grimy mask. For a moment, he was recognizable as the laughing man in Harry's parents' wedding photo.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Kirkland clambered up first. Harry remembered hearing something about a 'demobilizing knot' for the Willow...it explained why the terrible sound of savaging branches was oddly absent.

Alfred stood up as they came out. His clothes looked rather tattered, but he was otherwise no worse for wear. His expression was serious as he surveyed the new additions. "Who're they?"

"Not threats," Kirkland answered shortly. "Except for the fat one. Keep an eye on him."

The American nodded and moved to take up the rear without another word, a near opposite of the Alfred that Harry was used to. It made him wonder what the extent of their lies really were.

"One wrong move, Peter," Lupin threatened, his wand still pointed sideways at Pettigrew's chest.

They trampled through the grounds, the castle lights growing slowly larger. A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. The moon had peaked out of the clouds.

Lupin went rigid. Black barred Harry and Hermione from advancing any further. "Remus...did you take your potion tonight?"

The shabby professor shook his head tightly. He let out a pained gasped and doubled over, releasing Pettigrew's arm in the process. Peter took advantage of this immediately, pushing Ron away from him. The redhead fell unconscious when his head hit a rock.

Kirkland burst into action, grabbing Lupin by the shoulders and pulling him away. "Alfred! Matthew! Get the children to safety!"

Alfred darted forward and scooped Ron up, slinging him over his shoulder. Matthew pulled at them urgently. "We have to go!"

A bloodcurdling snarl ripped through the night air. Harry looked back to see Lupin's head and torso lengthening. Hair sprouted from his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws.

Kirkland stepped back and stomped the ground sharply. Thick tree roots burst out of the ground and moved to envelope the werewolf as he reared. Harry blinked, and Sirius was suddenly an enormous, bearlike dog again. He bounded forward as the werewolf wrenched itself free of it's binding. The dog seized it's neck and pulled backward, away from Kirkland.

Hermione's voice tore Harry's attention away from the battle. "Harry! We've got to get back to the castle!"

Harry nodded, and they ran. Alfred lead the way, still carrying an unconscious Ron over his shoulder. Matthew was right behind them...Harry couldn't help but feel that was intentional.

Harry and Hermione were panting now, struggling to keep up. Ron let out a quiet moan of complaint from all the jostling and jerking.

"Al," Matthew called out. "We can stop here for a moment. I need to check Ron's condition and make sure he's not critical."

The American stopped, gently propping Ron against a tree. Matthew knelt over him. Ron's eyes were half-lidded, and his mouth hung open. He was alive, but barely lucid.

"What'd he do to him?" Hermione whispered, wringing her hands with worry.

"I don't know," the Canadian confessed quietly. "He doesn't seem to be fully aware of his surroundings..."

Alfred stood apart from the group, looking back they way they'd come. Harry decided that it was now or never.

"Who are you, really?" Harry asked cautiously, moving to stand next to him. "How much have you lied about yourself this year?"

Alfred looked at him sidelong. "My name-well, _one_ of my names, is Alfred F. Jones. The other...I can't tell you."

"You aren't a third-year, either," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

"No, I am...much older than that," Alfred answered with an almost sad sigh.

Harry looked out over the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts. "How much of this year had been a lie? Do I really know you at all?"

The set in Alfred's shoulders relaxed as he looked down at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck, looking much more like the teenager Harry'd come to know over the past few months. "Listen, dude...I fibbed about a lot. But..." He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "You've been one of the greatest friends I've ever had, and _that's_ the truth."

Harry bit his lip. He _wanted_ to forgive Alfred. And Matthew. They'd done so much, and asked for so little in return.

But friends didn't keep secrets from each other. Especially not about their very natures.

"Why can't you tell me you're other name?" Harry asked quietly. "Is it that bad?"

"Multiple reasons," the American answered in an equally quiet tone. "There's so few of my kind, when compared to the rest of humanity. Oh, we fight and hold grudges and shit, but...in the end, we are the only ones who can truly understand each other, and help each other when things get hard."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "If it got out that we..._existed_, I should say, then things would get...hard. For everyone. Our respective handlers would deem it unsafe to let us out of sight. We'd be separated. Confined from the outside world and locked away in tiny white rooms. We wouldn't have each other to support anymore...We'd probably go insane. This is why we are very...choosy, about who we trust.

Harry was silent for a full minute as he processed this. He imagined being in their situation. A very small, secretive community, constantly at risk. Everyone suffering for one person's bad judgement-being locked away and treated like he was breakable because someone accidentally told the wrong person...he shivered. "I wouldn't tell."

"I know," Alfred responded softly. "But the others don't. I doubt that I'd be forgiven if they found out that I'd told a little British boy-even if it _is_ Harry Potter."

Harry's answer was cut off by a faint yelp coming from beyond their range of vision. A dog in pain.

"Sirius," Harry muttered, staring into the darkness. He suddenly had a _very_ bad feeling. "Something's wrong-I have to help!"

He set off at a run. Alfred's voice called out behind him, telling him to wait. Harry ignored this and kept running, twisting around trees, ducking under branches, flying over roots and rocks. He could hear Alfred coming up behind him, but more importantly, he could hear panicked yelping up ahead. It sounded like it was near the lake. Harry suddenly felt cold.

The yelping stopped abruptly. Harry saw why as he broke out of the trees-Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head. "Nooo," the fugitive moaned. "Nooo...please..."

And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides. He glanced behind them and saw Alfred, looking up at the surrounding Dementors with an expression that implied him about ready to have a mental breakdown.

Fog began to obscure his vision. More were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them...

"Alfred, think of something happy!" Harry yelled, raising his wand, blinking furiously to try and clear his vision, shaking his head to rid it of the faint screaming he was starting to hear-

_'I'm going to live with my godfather. I'm leaving the Dursleys.'_

He forced himself to think of Black, and began to chant: "Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!

Black gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death.

He'll be alright. I'm going to go and live with him.

"Expecto patronum! Alfred, help me! Expecto patronum!"

"Expecto-" Alfred managed shakily, "expecto-expecto-"

But he couldn't do it. The Dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Harry and Alfred, and were getting closer...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him. Harry saw Alfred gasp and go completely rigid from the corner of his eye. The American fell to the ground, twitching like he'd done on the train.

He was alone...completely alone...

"Expecto-expecto patronum-"

Harry felt his knees hit the cold, damp grass. Fog was clouding his eyes. He fought to stay conscious. He fought to remember, chanting like a mantra in his mind: _Sirius was innocent. I'm going to live with him. Sirius was innocent. I'm going to live with him..._

"Expecto patronum!" he gasped.

By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw the Dementor halt, very close to him. It could cross the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slip out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronus aside.

"No-no!" Harry gasped. "He's innocent...expecto expecto patronum-"

They were watching him, he could feel it. He could hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. The nearest Dementor seemed to be considering him. Then it raised both its rotting hands-ad lowered its hood.

It had no eyes. It didn't even have eye _sockets_. Just thin, grey scabbed skin, stretched over the area where they should've been. The fact that it had a mouth wasn't much of a consolation. A gaping, shapeless hole, sucking in air with the sound of a death rattle.

Harry was paralyzed with terror. He couldn't move or speak. He could hardly think straight anymore. His Patronus flickered and died.

White fog was blinding him. He had to fight...expecto patronum...he couldn't see...familiar screaming in the distance...expecto patronum...he groped in the mist and found Sirius's arm...they weren't going to take him...

A pair of strong, clammy hands gripped Harry's neck, making it almost impossible to breath. He was forced to face upward...He could feel its breath...It was going to get rid of him first...He could feel its putrid breath...His mother was screaming in his ears...

And then, through the fog that was drowning him, he thought he saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter...He felt himself fall forward onto the grass...Facedown, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harry opened his eyes. The Dementor must have released him. The blinding light illuminated the grass around him...The screaming had stopped, the cold ebbing away...

Something was driving the Dementors back...It was circling around him, Black, and Alfred...They were leaving...

The air was warm again.

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry managed to raise his head a few inches and saw an animal amid the light, galloping away across the lake...Eyes blurred, Harry tried to make out what it was...It was bright, like a unicorn.

It cantered to a halt as it reached the opposite shore. Harry saw a figure standing next to it. Some one welcoming it back...raising his hand to pat it...someone strangely familiar...but it _couldn't_ be...

The world went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Yaaaaaay! Two hours of writing? <em>Worth it. <em>But I'm not done yet. Starting the next chapter now! It's _so_ much more important to me than math homework.**

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews! Could I impose upon you all to give me your opinion on this chapter? In a review? Pweaaaaaase?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	44. Chapter 44

"Shocking business...shocking...miracle none of them died...but I suppose you specialize in miracles, Kirkland..."

"Save it, Fudge. I haven't forgotten our last conversation."

An exasperated sigh. "I _do_ wish you'd get your priorities straight. Here I was, ready to get you into the Order of Merlin, Second Class..."

"Please, I was there when the organization was _founded_. Do you really think that I'm not firmly placed in First Class by now?"

Harry had no problem keeping his eyes tightly shut. He felt awful. The words he was hearing travelled very slowly between his ears and his brain, so it was difficult to understand...His limbs felt like lead; his eyelids too heavy to lift...He was perfectly content to lie on this comfortable bed forever.

"...Touche. Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about? It isn't about..._that_...right? Because if it is, then I'm leaving."

"No, no, no. We can leave discuss your thickheaded denial policy, later. There is something _much_ more pressing to me at the moment." Harry caught a new and near-deadly undercurrent in the professor's voice. "Tell me why Sirius Black never had a trial, before I make you intimately familiar with the most unique sensation of my cutlass going up your sphincter."

"A-Arthur, calm down. It's not like we really _needed_ a trial, with all the witnesses and evidence-"

"The accused always gets a trial! Always! Being a Prime Minister does _not_ mean that you are the final word! I did not fight _this long_, and _this hard_ against my oppressors just to be taken over by some manipulative, self-entitled, idiot while my back is turned!"

"I am doing what is best for the English Wizarding World! The best for_ you_! And what have you done? You've spent over the last decade surrounded by _muggles_."

"Don't try changing the subject on me. I'm _much_ too old to be falling for such an amateur move."

Harry's brain caught up to him. He began to feel uneasy, but he wasn't quite sure why.

He opened his eyes and looked around. Someone had removed his glasses, but he could make out the blurry, moonlit Hospital Wing. At the end of the ward, he saw Madam Pomfrey with her back to him, bending over another bed. Harry squinted and distinguished Ron's red hair from beneath the nurse's arm.

Harry moved his head over on the pillow. In the bed to his right lay Alfred, who looked almost as bad as Harry probably did. His eyes were open, regarding the ceiling with a grim expression. He looked over and saw Harry was awake as well. He pressed a finger to his lips, and pointed to the Hospital Wing door. It was ajar, and the voices of Cornelius Fudge and Professor Kirkland were coming through from the corridor outside.

Madam Pomfrey walked briskly up the dark ward to Harry's bed, toting the largest block of chocolate he'd ever seen in his life. It looked like a small boulder.

"Ah, you're both awake!" she observed relievedly. She placed the chocolate on Harry's bedside table and began breaking it apart with a small hammer.

"How's Ron?" Alfred asked quietly.

"He'll live," Pomfrey answered. "As for you two, you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're-Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

Harry was sitting up, putting his glasses back on, and picking up his wand. "I need to see the headmaster," he explained. "It's extremely important."

"Potter," the nurse said soothingly, "it's alright. They caught Black. He's locked away upstairs. The Dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now-"

"WHAT?!"

Harry jumped out of bed; Alfred had done the same. But his shout had been heard from outside. Fudge and Kirkland entered the ward but a moment later.

"Harry, Alfred, what's this?" Fudge fussed agitatedly. "You should both be in bed-has he had any chocolate?" he asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"Minister, listen!" Harry exclaimed.

"As if he ever does," Kirkland muttered darkly.

Harry continued as if he hadn't heard. "Sirius Black is innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the Dementors-"

"Harry, Harry, youre very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control..."

"NO YOU DON'T!" Alfred yelled. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

Professor Kirkland looked at the stricken minister. "I think you should listen to them, Cornelius. I happened to see him as well."

"Peter Pettigrew is dead," Fudge declared obstinately. "Even if you _did_ somehow see him, he is not here, and unable to confess to his supposed crime. Black, however, was there. And there's already damning evidence against him, which essentially proves his guilt, as far as I'm concerned. For all I know, Black cast a Confundus Charm on you all to give you these ridiculous ideas.

"WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" Harry roared.

"Minister! Professor!" Madam Pomfrey said angrily. "I insist that you both leave. These boys are my patients, and should not be distressed!"

"Alfred's fine," Kirkland said dismissively. "He's used to...bad memories. It comes with the territory." The Englishman paused and sent a smirk Alfred's way. "If he _hasn't_ gotten over it by now, then I reserve the right to ridicule him about it for the next decade, and to put Dementors in his closet until he stops being a baby about it."

Pomfrey and Fudge both looked incredibly shocked at Kirkland's rather callous attitude towards Alfred. They were even more surprised by Alfred's cavalier response.

"As if I'd let you get anywhere _near_ my closet," the American retorted, retrieving his jacket from the bedpost it was draped over. "That'd be like giving Francis my house key. Or Ivan my phone number. 'S not happening. But I'm _so_ flattered to see that you still care after all these years, Iggy."

Madam Pomfrey's face became stern as she bodily blocked him from advancing any further. "I don't care what you are. Dementors are not to be taken lightly. You are staying _here_ where I can monitor you."

Alfred's shoulders slumped as he pouted. "But I wanna goooooo!" he whined petulantly, looking very much the young teenage boy. "I totally feel all better now! Honest!"

Pomfrey shook her head and shoved a piece of chocolate into his mouth. "No. You get right back in bed, young man. And not another word of complaint! Or do I have to do what I do with all of my uncooperative patients and paralyze you?"

Alfred subsided with a grumble, reluctantly sitting down on the edge of his bed to appease her. The nurse then looked at the two men sternly. "I must insist that you both leave. I can't have you distressing my patients like this!"

"We're not distressed," Harry defended furiously. "We're trying to tell them what happened! If they'd just listen-"

Madam Pomfrey took the opportunity to stick a large piece of chocolate into his mouth as well, and forced him back into the bed. "Minister, Professor, these children need care. Please leave."

The door opened again. It was Dumbledore. Harry managed to swallow his mouthful of chocolate as he got up again. "Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black-"

"For heaven's sake!" Pomfrey cried hysterically. "Isn't this a Hospital Wing? Headmaster, I must insist-"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mister Potter, Mister Jones, and Hermione. "I have just been talking to Sirius Black-"

"I suppose he's told youthe same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind?" Fudge asked tiredly. "Something about a rat, Pettigrew being alive-"

"That is indeed, Black's story," Dumbledore interrupted smoothly, watching the minister though his half-moon spectacles.

"And the evidence against Black?" Fudge challenged impatiently. "The unfortunately deceased Peter Pettigrew is not here, and so I must assume that Black's story is false." He consulted the large pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat. "The Dementors should have arrived by now," he said. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll be seeing you upstairs." He crossed to the door, and held it open for Kirkland, who hadn't moved.

"I'll stall him as long as I can," Kirkland whispered. "But I really can't stop him in the end."

"I am aware," the headmaster said quietly.

Kirkland took one step towards Dumbledore. "Right about now would be a good time pull some subtle, questionably directed miracle out of your sleeve. Don't disappoint me on this, Albus."

Dumbledore simply inclined his head. The Englishman turned on his heel and marched after Fudge.

"Perhaps you should follow their example," Madam Pomfrey said irritatedly. "These children need treatment and rest. I can't do that with everyone barging in and debriefing them every three seconds!"

"This cannot wait," Dumbledore said apologetically. "I must insist."

Pomfrey pursed her lips and strode away into her office at the end of the ward, slamming the door behind her.

Alfred and Harry burst into speech at once, trying to explain the situation to the headmaster.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth-we saw Pettigrew-he escaped weth Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf-"

"-he's a rat-"

"Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off-"

"Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius-"

But Dumbledore held up his hand to stem the flood of explanations.

"It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, for there is very little time. There is not a shred of proof to support Black's story but the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards, which will not convince anybody. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper."

"What about Professor Lupin, or Kirkland?" Harry demanded, unable to stop himself. "They can tell you-"

"Professor Lupin is currently deep in the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will be too late, Sirius will be worse than dead. I might add that werewolves are so mistrusted that his support will count for very little. Let alone the fact that he and Sirius are old friends. Kirkland's word will not count for much either, I'd expect. He's not human, and he's been away from the magical world for a long time. And despite his apparent status, the Minister and him do not see eye-to-eye on most things, if his _unauthorized_ presence here is anything to go by."

"But Sirius Black never had a trial," Alfred pointed out. "Matt said that Iggy nearly flipped his shit when he heard that."

"It will not matter," Dumbledore said. "A trial is useless without evidence to support the story. You must see that no one will listen to your version of events. Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady-entering Gryffidnor Tower with a knife-without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence."

"But you believe us," Harry said slowly.

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore answered quietly. "But I cannot convince anyone of the truth. And I do not have the power to overrule the Minister of Magic..."

Harry stared up into the grave face and felt as though the ground beneath him were falling away. He had grown use to the idea that Dumbledore could solve anything. He had expected the headmaster to pull some amazing solution out of the air. But no...their last hope was gone.

The door opened yet again, revealing Hermione. "You wished to meet me here Headmaster?" she asked timidly as she walked further into the room.

"Yes I did," Dumbledore said, beckoning her closer. "Pay attention to this, all of you. What we need, is _more time_."

"But-" Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. "Oh!"

"Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor," Dumbledore said, speaking lowly and clearly. His light blue eyes were intent. "Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. Remember, though. You cannot be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law-you know what is at stake...You-must-not-be-seen."

Harry and Alfred looked at each other in confusion. What was he going on about? Dumbledore turned oh his heel and looked back as he reached the door. "I am going to lock you in. It is-" he consulted his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

The door closed behind the headmaster. There was a definite click as the lock was turned, essentially trapping them in the room.

* * *

><p><strong>Haaaaahaha! Despite frequent dizzy spells and exhaustion, I managed another chapter! Oh, the things I do for love...<strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews and such! They're great-they really are. I feel like I don't say this enough. What did you guys think of this? Review, please!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	45. Chapter 45

"Three turns?" Harry repeated uncomprehendingly. "What's he talking about, Hermione?"

Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling out a very long, very fine gold chain. "Harry, Alfred, come here. Quickly, now!"

Alfred jumped off of the bed and joined the bewildered Harry next to Hermione. She was holding the chain out. He saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass inside of an gold ring hanging from it.

"Here-" She threw the chain over their necks. "Ready?"

"For what?" Alfred asked cautiously.

Hermione revolved the hourglass inside of the ring three times. The dark ward dissolved. Harry suddenly felt like he was flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding, he tried to yell but couldn't hear his own voice-

And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus again. They were standing in the deserted entrance hall. A stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He and Alfred looked around wildly, the chain of the hourglass cutting into their necks.

Alfred began muttering to himself, looking extremely lost and confused. "This doesn't...I can't...something's missing."

Harry looked at Hermione in askance. "What-?"

"In here!" Hermione seized their arms and dragged them both across the hall to the door of a broom closet; she opened it, pushed them inside among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind them.

"Where's my brother?" Alfred asked quietly, his glasses barely shining in the darkness. "He isn't here. This isn't right. I can't...I can't..."

Harry regarded the American's tensed form. "What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"

"Mattie..." Alfred muttered vaguely. "I need Mattie...He isn't here. I can _feel_ it. It just feels so..._empty_, without him."

"We've gone back in time," Hermione whispered, lifting the chain off of their necks. She shot a worried look at Alfred. "I read somewhere that twins have a notoriously hard time with time travel...Oh, _God_, I didn't even consider..."

It suddenly felt drafty. A faint wind was stirring up out of nowhere.

"What does being a twin have to do with time travel?" Harry asked, resisting the urge to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't just having a really bizarre dream.

"Twins share this...connection, of sorts," Hermione explained. "When that connection gets _broken, _even temporarily...This could be bad. We shouldn't have brought him."

Harry watched as Alfred shook his head dazedly and brought his hands to his temples. "What'll happen?"

"It varies," Hermione said uncomfortably. "Depression, irritability, nausea, insanity..." she trailed of and perked her ears. "Shhh! Someone's coming. I think-I think it might be us!" Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door. "Footsteps across the hall...yes, I think it's us going down to Hagrid's!"

"So...we're in the cupboard..." Harry said slowly, hardly able to believe the situation. "...but we're out there too?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, her ear still glued to the door. "I'm sure it's us...the timing is right-" She broke off, listening intently. "We've gone down the front steps..." She sat down on an upturned bucket, sending a desperately anxious look at Alfred, who seemed on the verge of a major breakdown.

"Where did you get that hourglass thing?" Harry asked, wanting answers.

"It's called a Time-Turner," Hermione whispered, "and I got it from Professor McGonagall so that I could get to all my lessons. She made me swear not to tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic to get me one. She had to tell them I was a model student, and that I'd never use it for anything except my studies...This is how I've been able to do hours over again, and how I've done several lessons at once, see? But..."

"But, what?" Harry pressed.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, how is going back three hours going to help Sirius?"

Harry frowned as he thought about this. Three hours ago...they were walking down to Hagrid's...so now what?

"H-he told us where the window was..." Alfred managed shakily, obviously trying to get a grip on himself and focus. "But how do we get him down from there?...We'd have to fly..."

Hermione snapped her fingers. "What about Buckbeak? He's still here. We can fly Sirius out of there!"

"How will we go without being seen?" Harry asked.

"Faith, trust, and pixie-dust," Alfred mumbled.

Harry and Hermione both looked at him oddly. Alfred regarded their shadowed faces with a blank look, not bothering to offer an explanation.

"Oookay then," Hermione said slowly. "Let's get this over with, then. Alfred clearly needs to get back to his twin as quickly as possible."

* * *

><p>Matthew gasped, tightly gripping his polar bear's fur. Kumajirou looked up at him with concern. "What?"<p>

"Something's wrong..." Matthew muttered. "He's...he's gone. Al's not here...where did he go?" He felt inexplicably lost now. Like something inside just...cut off. "I-I need to go to the Hospital Wing...Alfred was _there_ last I checked...I need to make sure."

He leapt off of his bed and dashed for the door. It was subconsciously registered that Kumajirou was trailing closely behind. He flew down the staircase, ran through the sparsely populated Common Room, and out of Gryffindor Tower. He turned a corner, spurring himself faster.

_'Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Whe-'_

He nearly crashed into someone standing in the hallway. He looked up to see Arthur looking down at him with a concerned expression. "Matthew?"

The Canadian immediately tried to push past him. Arthur gripped the collar of his robes and pulled him back. "What is it, lad?"

Matthew let out an uncharacteristic snarl as he tried to wrench himself free. He didn't have _time_ for this shit, he needed Alfred! _"Lâchez-moi!"_

"What's wrong with him?" Fudge asked, stepping back warily. Dumbledore's face betrayed nothing.

"I don't bloody know!" Arthur gritted out. "He's usually-AGH!"

Matthew turned and kicked him hard in the shin. He ran down the hall, ignoring the angry yells behind him.

* * *

><p>"Let's go around the greenhouses!" Hermione suggested breathlessly as they ran. "We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid's front door, or we'll see us! We must nearly be at Hagrid's by now!"<p>

Harry practically dragged Alfred along as they went. They tore across the vegetable gardens to the greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, as fast as they could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, headed toward the shelter of the forest...

Safe in the shadows of the trees, they stopped, panting. Alfred winced and gripped his forehead. "Ow...Buckbeaks in the stables behind the hut...Let's hurry!"

They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the edge of the forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid's house, they heard a knock upon his door. They quickly hid behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Harry heard his own voice.

"It's us. We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered in response. he stood back, then quietly shut the door.

"For the record," Harry said, "This is the weirdest thing we've ever done."

"Stables are this way," Hermione whispered. "Buckbeak now, debating and reflection later!"

They crept along the trees until they sighted the stables. Buckbeak was there, tethered to a post and eating from a trough.

There was a faint shriek coming from the hut.

"I just found Scabbers," the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl whispered. "We'll be coming out any second now."

"Alfred," Harry said firmly, gripping the disturbed American's shoulders. "_Focus_, because we need your help. Buckbeak respects you the most, and we need to get him back to the castle as quickly as possible. Then you can see Matthew again. Do you understand? _Get Buckbeak out of there._"

Alfred clenched his fists and inhaled a shuddering breath. "O-okay..." He ran across the clearing with a speed he rarely ever showed. He barely took notice of the enchanted, heavy-duty lock on the metal gate as he pulled the barrier off of it's hinges without any apparent effort.

Buckbeak cantered nervously, seeming to sense the off-kilter aura Alfred was emitting. The American wordlessly extended a hand. Buckbeak reluctantly walked to the end of his tether and pressed his beak into it. Alfred used his free hand to crush the chain into metallic dust, freeing the Hippogriff.

"Scabbers!" Ron's voice howled in the distance.

"Hurry!" Hermione urged.

Alfred silently lead Buckbeak away from the stables, his expression distracted and distant. Harry looked back towards the castle. "Alright, let's go!"

They went back the way they'd come, keeping a little farther back into the woods to keep out of sight. Alfred let out a soft moan as the Whomping Willow came back into sight. "Oh, God..." Buckbeak crooned and nuzzled him in an effort to comfort him.

In that same moment, Harry caught sight of Alfred from three hours ago, wrestling with the Willow. "_Oh, no_ you don't, overgrown weed! I've got at least a century on you. I _will not let go_."

They were about to continue, but Hermione stopped them right before they could come into sight. "Wait! Someone's coming up the path!"

Quick footsteps indicated someone running. The Alfred from three hours ago craned his neck to see who it was. "Yo, Prof!"

"A-Alfred? What are you doing here?"

"Arm wrestling a tree." Creaking wood and rustling branches interrupted for a brief moment. "_No!_ That's a bad tree! _Baaaad_ tree!"

"You need to go back to the castle, Alfred. It isn't safe-"

"Alfred, what the _bloody hell_ are you doing?"

Harry jumped. He'd been too occupied to notice Kirkland coming up the path as well. He held a glowing silver pendant in one hand, and his wand in another. "Release the tree immediately!"

"I _can't_. Friend's inside. Have to keep the tree still for when they come out!"

_"What?"_

"A big black dog dragged Matthew in! They haven't come out since-Hurry! I can't do this all day!"

"A black dog?..."

"What do you know of this?"

"Sirius!" Lupin dived into the tunnel.

"Well, _shite_," Kirkland cursed. "Hold on, Alfred, let me find the immobilizing knot..."

"_Dammit_...We can't get past without them seeing us," Alfred fairly growled.

"It's alright," Hermione soothed him gently. "We'll just wait until they come out again. Try to calm down."

Alfred shook himself and plopped onto the ground, pinching the bridge of his nose. Buckbeak immediately joined him on the ground, enveloping the American in his wing protectively. Alfred leaned into the creature's neck and gripped his feathers.

Hermione sat down on a felled trunk next to Harry, seeming to fall deep into thought.

A few moments of tense silence was interrupted by Alfred's voice. "Harry...there's something I still don't get...Why didn't the Dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I blacked out...there were so many of them..." He trailed off and seemed to curl up tighter against Buckbeak as he relieved the memory.

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I saw something bright silver gallop across the lake...looked kind of like a unicorn...but not exactly...I'm not sure. The only thing I know of that could make that many Dementors go away. A _really_ powerful Patronus."

"But who conjured it?" Hermione asked. "Did you see what they looked like? Was it one of the teachers?"

"No," Harry said. "He definitely wasn't a teacher."

"Had to be a really powerful wizard," Alfred interjected. "Wasn't it bright enough to light him up? Couldn't you see-?"

"I saw him," Harry said slowly, knowing how strange this would sound. "I think it was my dad."

Harry glanced up to see Hermione gazing at him with a mixture of alarm and pity. "Harry, your dad's-well-dead," she reminded him quietly.

"I know that," Harry reassured quickly.

"His ghost, then?" Alfred asked, his troubled face barely peeking out from Buckbeak's feathers.

"I don't know...no...he looked solid..." Harry stopped and sighed almost sadly. "Maybe I was seeing things. But it looked like him, from the photos of him that I have."

Hermione looked worried for his sanity.

"I know it sounds crazy," Harry said flatly. He feel silent and looked down at his hands. He thought about his father. And his father's oldest friends...Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs...Had all four of them been out on the grounds tonight? Wormtail reappeared this evening when everyone thought he was dead...Was it so impossible that his father had done the same? Had he been seeing things across the lake? The figure had been too far away to see distinctly...yet he'd felt so sure, for a moment, before he'd lost consciousness...

The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. Alfred's breath hitched as he whispered something that sounded suspiciously close to his brother's name. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind shifting clouds. Hermione sat with her face turned towards the Willow, waiting.

* * *

><p><em>'Alfred, Alfred, Alfred, Alfred...'<em>

Matthew reached the Hospital Wing door, and immediately tried to wrench it open. It was locked. He could footsteps behind him.

"Matthew!" Arthur exclaimed with a pant. "What has gotten _into_ you?"

"Open this door," Matthew demanded angrily.

Arthur stopped, just out of arm's reach of the suddenly irritable Canadian. "Matthew, your brother is fine. Madam Pomfrey just insisted upon keeping him-"

_"It's not fine,"_ Matthew hissed. His shallow breaths were condensing in front of him now. The temperature of the corridor dropped by several degrees.

More footsteps. Dumbledore came up right behind Kirkland. "What seems to be the problem here?"

Matthew took a deep breath, trying to calm down as best he could. "I can't feel Alfred. It's like...missing a part of me. I feel...I feel like a ship that just lost it's anchor." His voice rose to a shout. "And this _fucking_ door is is keeping me from reuniting with it!" He put his hands to his head, trying to relieve the pounding. The room was starting to blur as he began to see red.

"Albus," Arthur said quietly, "do you know something about this? You _were_ the last one in the room."

"You asked for a miracle," the headmaster answered with solemn tone. "But I didn't foresee this. I never accounted for the fact that Alfred and Matthew were twins..."

Arthur's fists clenched. "What. Did. You. _Do_?"

"I cannot say," Dumbledore answered. "The walls have ears. But I _can_ say that it is only temporary."

Arthur cursed. He knelt down to Matthew's level. "Listen to me. It's only temporary. You'll get your brother back. Just a little longer."

Matthew sank to his knees. He felt Kumajirou's reassuring paws on his lap. The Canadian gripped his fur like it was a lifeline. _How much longer would this torture last?_

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaaah, cliffhangers. Gotta love them. And why is their an apparent lag in Harry, Hermione, and Alfred's return time? I'll come up with something for that later.<strong>

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews! Please leave a tip(review) in the tip jar(my email). **

**And now I go to bed! For I doth have a Renaissance Faire to attend on the morrow! So I must fall into Morpheus's warm embrace _now_, so that I may rouse myself earlier and get there when the clock strikes ten, when the gates open. **

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	46. Chapter 46

The wait was agonizing. Harry felt useless, unable to do anything but twiddle his thumbs and wait. Alfred was getting steadily worse, alternating between frantic mutterings and eerie silence as he leaned against a dozing Buckbeak.

"Here we come!" Hermione whispered suddenly, jarring them out of their respective trances.

Harry and Hermione stood up simultaneously. Buckbeak raised his head, rousing Alfred with the movement. They saw Kirkland climb out first. Lupin, Ron, and Pettigrew clambered out next. Then came Hermione, Harry, and Black. Matthew trailed behind unobtrusively, seeming to enjoy the anonymity he was experiencing. They began walking towards the castle.

Harry's heart was beating a rapid tattoo in his chest. He glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move aside and show the moon...

"Harry," Hermione cautioned as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, "we've got to stay put. We mustn't be seen. There's nothing we can do..."

"So we're just going to let Pettigrew escape all over again," Harry muttered despairingly.

"How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?" Hermione demanded. "There's nothing we can do! We came back to help Sirius; we're not supposed to be doing anything else!"

"Fine!" Harry shot back.

The moon slid out from behind its cloud. The tiny figures across the grounds stopped. There was movement and faint shouting.

"There goes Lupin," Hermione whispered sadly. "He's transforming."

Alfred's head snapped up, realization dawning on his face. "Oh, crap. We've got to move-" He cut off and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ouch..."

"Nausea...your symptoms are advancing," Hermione said worriedly. "You shouldn't be moving. Besides, I already told Harry that we can't-"

"We can't interfere, I know," Alfred snapped irritably. "Arthur's going to chase Lupin into the forest."

Harry caught on to the blond's train of thought. "They'll be coming right for us!"

Hermione gasped. "We've got to hide! Quickly! The Dementors will be coming at any moment-"

"Where can we go?" Harry demanded. "Hagrid's at his hut, so we can't go there.

"We'll go around," Hermione said. "Travel along the edge of the tree line-away from the action and towards the castle. Wait it out till it's time to free Black."

"No!" Alfred exclaimed. "Won't work. How will we know when to do it if we don't know what's going on?"

Harry glanced towards the general direction of the lake, thinking. "I'll go back towards the lake and keep an eye on Black. I can meet you two back at the castle when it's time."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "But-"

"I won't try to interfere," Harry quickly reassured her. "But _someone_ has to do it. _Alfred_ can't do it because of the Dementors and his...problem. _You_ need to be with Alfred because you know more about his issue than me, and can support him better. Never mind the fact that Buckbeak needs to be watched!"

There was howling and fierce snarls, punctuated by splitting wood and rushing greenery. The fight was getting ever closer. Alfred twitched.

"O-okay," Hermione said. "We'll go around towards the castle. You get to the lake." She grabbed Alfred's arm and quickly lead him off in the opposite direction. Buckbeak was content to follow the American's lead even without a guiding hand.

Harry ducked back into the greenery just in time to see Lupin's werewolf form get thrown right past him and into a tree. Professor Kirkland followed at an oddly leisurely pace, the very ground seeming to respond to his every step. Kirkland snapped his fingers, and thorny branches whipped out to form jagged restraints around the werewolf's torso and wrists.

"Can you hear me, Lupin?" Kirkland demanded. "Or have you already given into the beast?"

The werewolf snarled and tried to lunge. The bark gained a life of it's own, beginning to creep over it's form, as if trying to consume the werewolf into the tree's trunk.

"Now, now," Kirkland scolded. "I expect better behavior from my citizens. And more common sense." He clenched his fist, and the branches constricted even tighter, causing the thorns to dig into the beast's flesh.

The werewolf thrashed. It's panicked howl pierced the air, leaving Harry's ears ringing.

"You can't fight me," Kirkland said almost softly. "Not when the very _land_ is your opponent." His voice gained an odd quality, like every rock, tree, leaf, and blade of grass reverberated with it. "Don't be a fool. Don't make me hurt you anymore."

The werewolf's howls quickly became whimpers, it's ears and tail drooping with fearful resignation. Less of an untamed beast, and more of a domestic family dog that was just caught digging in the garden.

"Good boy," the Englishman smirked. He snapped his fingers again, and the branches fell away. The bark receded and the creature landed on the ground with a short yelp. "Go into the woods, as far away from the castle as possible. Do not return until you are human again. Do you understand, or do I have to drag you away with a leash?"

As if in response, the werewolf turned and silently loped away. Kirkland sighed and looked around. He froze. Harry held his breath.

_'Don't see me. Don't see me. Don't see me. Don't see me...'_

The professor shook his head and looked around. "Now where did Black get off to?...Did he rendezvous with the children?" He turned back towards the castle and jogged off.

Harry turned and ran as fast as he possibly could. The lake was in sight now. He began to hear yelping up ahead. The Dementors would be closing in on Sirius now...He and Alfred would be running up any moment now...

* * *

><p>Hermione caught Alfred before he could collapse onto the ground. "A-Alfred! Stay with me! We're almost to the castle."<p>

"It's been too long..." Alfred muttered despairingly. "I can feel myself...slipping away..."

"Don't die," Hermione ordered frantically. She gripped the blond's clammy hands in her own. _"Stay with me."_

"Won't," Alfred answered faintly. "Not possible...But I can still feel myself slipping...all the same...Mattie...where are you?..."

Hermione slapped him. _Hard._

Alfred blinked and brought a hand up to his cheek, seeming to come a bit more into reality. "Wh..."

"You're not dying, America," Hermione said with what she was hoping sounding like confidence. "Then who would beat up Malfoy?"

Alfred chuckled mirthlessly. "Canada could manage..." He trailed off as his sluggish mind seemed to catch up with her words. "Y-you..."

"Yes," Hermione interjected, "I've known for a while."

Alfred's response never came. He staggered and let out a soft moan. "It hurts so much...it feels so empty..." His eyes fluttered closed.

Hermione shook him. "No. Stay awake. I need you up so that I can track each stage of you affliction. How are you feeling?"

Alfred leveled an irritated glare at the Gryffindor girl, suddenly irritable. "Think _real_ hard, girlie. Aren't you s'pposed ta be the smart one?"

Hermione refused to be phased by his scathing tone. "That actually answers my question quite well," she observed with a raised eyebrow. "You're getting worse."

"No _shit_," Alfred growled darkly. He gasped and fell to one knee. Buckbeak, sidled back nervously.

Hermione glanced back towards the Forbidden Forest worriedly. They didn't have much time. "Alfred, we _need_ to be by that tower when the time comes. Get control of your temper and _start walking_. Don't slow us down."

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. "S-sorry..." He got to his feet shakily. "Let's get moving."

* * *

><p>Harry stared out toward the lake, feeling his heart pounding out of his chest. Whoever had sent that Patronus would be appearing at any moment...<p>

For a fraction of a second he stood, irresolute. You must not be seen. But _he_ wanted to see. He had to know...

And then there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake...passing by Harry and approaching the opposite bank...He wouldn't have to get near them...

Harry began to run. He had no thought in his head except his father...If it was him...if it really _was_ him...he had to know, had to find out...

The lake was coming nearer and nearer, but there was no sign of anybody. On the opposite bank, he could see tiny glimmers of silver-his own attempts at a Patronus-

There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harry ducked behind it and peered desperately though the leaves. The glimmers of silver across the lake were extinguished. Any moment now...

"Come on!" he muttered impatiently. A small glimmer fear shot through him as he waited. "Where are you? Dad, come on-"

No one came. Harry raised his head to look at the circle of Dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering it's hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear-but no one was coming to help this time. It was just him. He was alone on this end of the lake...

And then it hit him. He understood. He hadn't seen his father at all...just someone who looked a lot like him.

Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand. _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Silver light burst out of the tip of his wand. Not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. He squinted, trying to see what it was. It looked like...a horse, almost. But not exactly. It lowered it's head and charged the swarming Dementors. The dark creatures scattered, retreating into the darkness...They were gone.

The Patronus turned and cantered back toward Harry across the still surface of the lake. It wasn't a horse, and it certainly wasn't a unicorn. It was a stag, shining as though it were made of pure moonlight.

It stopped on the bank, making no mark on the soft ground with it's hooves. It stared at Harry with large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed it's antlered head.

Harry's trembling fingertips stretched toward the creature. "Prongs," he whispered reverently. It vanished.

Harry heard footsteps approaching behind him. He dove into the bush again just as Professor Kirkland burst into the clearing, wand at the ready. He looked around, and saw the collapsed forms on the opposite bank. His green eyes narrowed, his wand flashed blue, Harry blinked, and Kirkland was suddenly across the lake. He knelt down, there was another flash of blue light, and he was gone, along with the unconscious Harry, Alfred, and Sirius.

Harry slowly climbed out of the bush, looking all around. How did Professor Kirkland _do_ that? The clock tower chimed in the distance, spurring Harry into a run. He needed to get to the castle's West Tower. It wouldn't be much longer before the Dementors were called to perform the Kiss on Sirius.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, lots of stuff going on in this chapter. At least, that's how it felt while I was writing it. About 200-ish words shorter, but I couldn't make it any longer without ruining my awesome cliffhanger. <strong>

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites, everyone! Pleaaaase review? I want to hear everyone's opinions. EVERYONE'S OPINION! I AM A HOPELESS REVIEW HOARDER.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	47. Chapter 47

"Harry!" Hermione called out relievedly. "Over here!"

Harry screeched to a halt, seeing Hermione sitting with her back against the tower's stone wall. Alfred was curled against Buckbeak again, every muscle in his form tensed.

Harry couldn't help himself from grinning. It was fine. He'd made it with time to spare. "You're not going to _believe_ what just happened." He plopped onto the ground next to her.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, immediately suspicious. "I_ told_ you not to interfere, Harry-"

"I just saved my own life!" Harry interjected excitedly. "And Alfred's!"

The American's head appeared from Buckbeak's fur as he heard his name. He looked around, as if looking for danger, shot Harry a surly glare and pressed his face back into the Hippogriff's feathers again.

Harry blinked. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's nauseous and irritable," Hermione answered quietly, her tone concerned. "His symptoms are advancing."

Harry sobered at this development. "Will he be okay?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "He's shown most of the known symptoms already. And they only get worse."

Alfred let out what almost sounded like an animalistic growl. But it was muffled by Buckbeak's feathers, so Harry couldn't be sure.

Hermione glanced at the blond's form, and then looked back at Harry. "But there's nothing we can do about that right now. Tell me what happened. And don't. Omit. _Anything_."

And so Harry told her. He told her about Professor Kirkland's battle with the werewolf. He told her about the Patronus, and how he'd been the one to cast it, instead of his father like he'd initially thought. He even told her about the odd transporting spell he'd seen Kirkland use to transport them to the castle. Hermione listened to the whole thing with her mouth agape.

When he finished, the first thing she said was, "Did anyone see you?"

"Yes, haven't you been listening?" Harry was practically bouncing in his seat, waiting impatiently for her to comprehend. "I _saw_ me but I thought I was _my dad_! It's okay!"

Hermione blinked and seemed to look at Harry with a new light. "Harry...you conjured up a Patronus that was strong enough to chase away_ hundreds_ of Dementors! That is _very_ advanced magic."

"I knew I could do it this time," Harry explained, "because I'd already done it...Does that make sense?"

"Not really," Hermione said. She looked out onto the grounds and gasped. "Harry! Look!"

Dementors were pouring out of the forest and approaching the castle by the hundreds. Fudge's form could be seen out in front of the castle's entrance.

"It's time, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "Fudge's called the Dementors! He's out there greeting them!"

Alfred got to his feet. Buckbeak followed his lead with a short squawk and a quick flap of his wings.

"Who's riding?" Harry asked.

Hermione took one look at Buckbeak, grimaced, and pointed at Alfred. Harry looked at the disturbed American skeptically. "You really alright to fly?"

Alfred smiled at some private joke of his, the whipcord tension in his shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly. "I'm _always_ good to fly, boss."

Harry put his hands on Buckbeak's back, and Alfred gave him a leg up. The blond jumped onto Buckbeak's back as if he did it everyday.

"I'll meet you two at the Hospital Wing," Hermione said. "Hurry, though!"

"Alright," Harry said. Alfred just nodded. Hermione shot them both a thumbs up, turned around, and ran off, presumably towards the castle's nearest side entrance.

"Ready, Alfred!" Harry called, wrapping his arms around his flight companion's waist.

Alfred gripped the loose chain like reins, nudged Buckbeak's sides with his heels, and they took off.

Harry felt great wings rising powerfully beneath him, lifting them up higher and higher, towards the upper floors of the sprawling castle. The night air on his face was amazing. Riding a broom was _nothing_ compared to the experience of riding a Hippogriff.

Alfred pulled hard on the improvised reins, putting them at a near stagnant hover next to the West Tower's window.

"He's there!" Harry said, spotting Sirius behind the glass. He leaned out and tapped on it sharply.

Black looked up. Harry saw his jaw drop. The convict leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked. He pounded on it as hard as he could, but was unable to even crack the long-tested and probably enchanted glass.

"Stand back!" Alfred advised. His fist lashed out, shattering the window.

Black raised his arms over his head to shield himself from the jagged shards. He lowered his arms, revealing a dumbfounded expression as he stared at the Hippogriff. "H-how...?"

"No time!" Harry said quickly. "Dementors are coming-Get on the bird!"

Black nodded and placed a hand on either side of the window frame. He heaved his head and shoulders out of it, and was able to fling a leg over Buckbeak's back and pulled himself onto the Hippogriff behind Harry.

"Up!" Alfred ordered shortly. "Up to the tower-come on!"

The Hippogriff gave one sweep of it's mighty wings and they were soaring upward again, high above the West Tower's spire. Alfred let out an exhilarated laugh, and urged Buckbeak into a sharp dive. Black let out a fierce yell of alarm.

"Land on the battlements!" Harry yelled over the wind. Alfred gave him a thumbs up and reared back on the reins, causing Buckbeak to level himself and glide towards the castle.

Buckbeak landed with a clatter. Alfred and Harry slid off at once.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick," Harry panted. "They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out that you're gone."

Buckbeak pawed the ground, tossing his sharp head.

"What about the Matthew boy?" Sirius croaked. "And Ron?"

"They're okay," Harry reassured.

Alfred stepped up to Buckbeak and stroked his head. "Find me. Do you understand? Get him where he needs to go, and then meet me at home. Not here, but _home_."

Buckbeak crooned in response. Black wheeled the Hippogriff around to face open sky. "We'll see each other again," he said. "You are..._truly_ your father's son, Harry..."

He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels. Alfred and Harry jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more...The Hippogriff took off into the air...He and his rider became smaller and smaller...a cloud drifted across the moon, and they were gone.

Alfred clutched his head and moaned, his exuberance in the air had vanished without a trace now that he was on terra firma once again. "Mattie..." The wind stirred and increased sharply, threatening to throw them off the tower.

Harry gripped the dazed American's arm, directing him towards a hatch that would lead inside. "A few more minutes, Alfred. Keep it together."

* * *

><p>Hermione knew she was late. She knew it because there were people by the Hospital Wing door. She skidded to a halt and pressed herself against the wall. Who was all there?<p>

The figure sitting on the floor hiccuped pitifully and seemed to shrink in on himself. "Al..." The stone floor surrounding him was covered in a thin layer of ice.

_'Matthew,'_ Hermione reasoned. _'Feeling the effects of the separation as well...'_

"They should be back by now," came Dumbledore's somber voice.

Kirkland's angrier tone echoed throughout the corridor. "If anythings happened to them, I swear to _God_ Albus-"

Alfred blurred past Hermione in a gust of wind and fabric. He slipped on the icy ground and crashed into his brother. "Mattie!"

"A-Alfred?!" The Canadian gripped his brother as if trying to reassure himself that, yes, this was real. "Oh, _Dieu merci!_"

Harry stopped and leaned against the wall next to her, panting. "I tried to hold him back. I really did...Guess we're all in trouble, huh?" Despite his words, he sounded relieved.

Hermione shook her head, grabbed Harry's hand, and pulled him towards the group. "Please, everyone. We need to get back into the Hospital Wing before Fudge arrives."

Dumbledore inclined his head, unlocked the door, and stepped away. "Then hurry. The Minister will be coming this way any moment."

Alfred clung to his brother with a deathly tight grip. _"No."_

"Don't be a git," Kirkland chided irritatedly. "He's fine. You're fine. You're both in the proper time zone. Just be patient."

Alfred looked like he would protest, but Matthew pulled him into a quick hug. "It's alright, Al. I'll be okay."

The American bit his lip, but nodded. He followed Harry and Hermione into the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore closed the door and locked it, just like before.

* * *

><p>They all crept back into their own beds. Alfred sat on the edge of his, just like before. Madam Pomfrey strode back out of her office.<p>

"It was unusually quiet in her for nearly a full minute," she observed. "I was worried that you'd all sneaked off with the Headmaster. He's mischievous enough to pull something ridiculous like that."

She doled out chocolate to each of them. She even stood over them to make sure that they ate it. But Harry could hardly swallow. He, Hermione, and Alfred were waiting, listening, their nerves jangling...And then, on their fourth helping of chocolate from Madam Pomfrey, they heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above them.

"What was that?" the nurse asked in alarm.

Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door.

"Really-they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"

Harry was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer-

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape's voice roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS. HAS. SOMETHING. TO. DO. WITH. POTTER!"

The three friends looked at each other in confusion. What did Snape have to do with anything? He wasn't even there!

"Severus-be reasonable-Harry has been locked up-"

The door flew open with a bang. Fudge, Snape, Dumbledore, and Kirkland came striding into the ward. Dumbledore and Kirkland were the only ones who appeared calm. Well, Dumbledore actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Fudge was livid, and Snape was beside himself.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"Professor Snape, control yourself!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked.

"Be reasonable, Snape," Fudge consoled with a rather sullen tone. "This door's been locked, we just saw-"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry, Alfred, and Hermione. "ONLY THEY WOULD HELP A MURDERER LIKE BLACK GET AWAY!" His face was twisted, spit flying from his mouth.

"Calm down, man!" Kirkland barked. "You're talking utter nonsense!"

Snape reared on the Englishman. "Then you did it, didn't you? I _knew_ you weren't to be trusted-!"

"That will do, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "Think about what you're saying. This door has been locked since Kirkland and I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" the nurse huffed, bristling. "I would have noticed something amiss!"

"Well, there you have it, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

Kirkland frowned at the usually composed professor. "You're taking this grudge a bit far, aren't you Snape? I know you disliked James Potter as a boy, but that doesn't that mean you should go so far as to accuse his son of _aiding a criminal_!"

Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge's thoroughly shocked expression, to Kirkland's disdainful one. Dumbledore seemed downright entertained by all of this, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," Fudge commented, staring at the closed door. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."

"Oh, he's not unbalanced," Dumbledore said quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

"He's not the only one!" Fudge fumed. "The Daily Prophet's going to have a bloody_ field day_ with this! Black slipped through our fingers!_ Again!_ I'm going to be a laughingstock!"

"Can't be helped," Kirkland said, his voice holding the faintest hint of something akin to merriment. "You should probably go notify the Minisitry...and get those bloody Dementors away from m-er, _away from the students_, while you're at it..."

"Oh, yes, they'll have to go," Fudge said distractedly, running his fingers through his hair. "Never dreamed they'd attempt to administer the Kiss on an innocent boy...Completely out of control...no, I'll have them packed off back to Azkaban tonight...Perhaps we should think about _dragons_ at the school entrance, instead..."

"Hagrid would like that," Dumbledore commented, smiling at Harry, Hermione, and Alfred. As he and Fudge left the dormitory, Madam Pomfrey hurried to the door and locked it again. Muttering angrily to herself, she headed back into her office.

There was a low moan from the other end of the ward. Ron had woken up. They could see him sitting up, rubbing his head, looking around.

"What...what happened?" he groaned. "Harry? Why are we in here? Where's Sirius? Where's Lupin? What's going on?"

Harry, Hermione, and Alfred looked at each other. Where to even _begin_?

"You guys explain," Harry said, helping himself to more chocolate.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, thank Odin that I finally got through this chapter. It was a combination of internet failures, computer failures, and <em>brain<em> failures that made this harder to write than it should've ...there _will_ be a sequel. Which affects the ending of this story somewhat.**

**Thank you _all_ for the reviews, favorites, and follows. Buuut, I'd like to know what your opinion of this chapter is. So...review?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	48. Chapter 48

At noon the next day, they were finally released from the Hospital Wing. The castle was practically deserted due to another Hogsmeade visit that nearly everyone was taking advantage of as a celebration for the end of exams. None of them really wanted to go down to the village. Someone came up with the idea of going to the lake, instead.

Alfred hadn't allowed Matthew out of his sight, not that the Canadian seemed to mind all that much. They were still a little shaken at the experience of losing their 'link' to one another, even if it was only temporary. Now they were just enjoying each other's company as if it were the best thing in the world.

Harry idly watched Alfred's sunlit form as they sat, watching the giant squid waving it's tentacles lazily above the sparkling blue surface of the lake. He tried to feel angry, or betrayed at having been lied to almost all year.

"Hey Mattie, I dare you to zap the squid with your wand."

"No, Alfred."

"Why not?"

"Because in _my_ country, that would be considered, _'incredibly stupid'_."

But Harry couldn't bring himself to it. Despite secrets and ulterior motives, they'd been great friends. They stuck with Harry, Hermione, and Ron through thick and thin. Through danger, and fun. Through anger and mischief.

"Well in my country, we'd call that, _'an awesome idea'_."

"Which is why we don't use your ideas."

Maybe having friends with secrets wasn't such a bad thing. Harry _knew_ he could trust the twins, even if they didn't fully trust him yet. But maybe one day...

"Are you really reading a_ book_? The year's about over. There's nothing more to study!"

Hermione shut the large leatherbound tome with a huff. "But what about _next_ year? I need to keep up!"

...Maybe one day they could all trust each other.

Ron happened to look back towards the trees, and grinned. "Hagrid!"

The half-giant approached them, his expression pensive. "Er, Alfred? Somethin' I gotta tell ya..."

The American stopped poking his brother's cheek and swiveled to regard Hagrid. "Wassup?"

Hagrid wrung his hands. "It's Beaky. He...I don' know...think 'e might 'ave been nabbed, or somethin'. I'm not sure. The gate was ripped clean off it's hinges, an' the tether was broke..."

Alfred almost smiled. "Don't worry Hagrid. Something tells me that Buckbeak will be just fine. And I'm never wrong about these kinds of things."

"Well...if yer sure," Hagrid said dubiously. "But I'll still be keepin' an eye out fer any Hippogriffs on black ma-er, any Hippogriffs fer sale. Maybe yer people can do the same?"

"No problem," Alfred replied easily. "I know a guy."

Hagrid opened his mouth respond, and then shut it again as something occurred to him. "...Ye know...it was a _metal_ gate on those stables...enchanted, too...it'd take a lot o' strength ta do tha'..."

"Indeed it would," Alfred answered solemnly. His tiny smirk belied his tone. "You should probably ask Dumbledore for better enchantments. The culprit, whoever it is, probably didn't find it too hard to break."

A smile could be seen through the half-giant's bushy black beard. "I think I migh' take yer advice, Alfred."

Hagrid soon took his leave, not particularly enjoying the sweltering heat of summer. He trudged back up towards the hut, leaving the five friends alone again. Harry looked up at the sky, wondering if Buckbeak ever found his way home.

* * *

><p>Lupin's office door was open. Harry knocked politely as he looked in, and was met with an unfortunate surprise.<p>

Lupin's things were mostly packed, already. The Grindyglow's empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin looked up, still bent over something that lay flat on the desk. "I saw you coming," he said with a small smile, indicating the parchment he'd been pouring over. It was the Marauder's Map.

"Why are you packing?" Harry asked, afraid of the response he'd receive.

"I've resigned," Lupin replied simply. He started opening his desk drawers and emptying them of their contents.

Harry was alarmed to say the least. "Why? The MInistry of Magic don't think you were helping sirius, do they?"

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry for privacy.

"No. Professors Dumbledore and Kirkland both vouched for me and convinced Fudge that I was actually trying to save your lives." He sighed forlornly. "That was the final straw for Severus. He'd always hated me. Almost as much as he did Sirius and your father. So he ah..._accidentally_ let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

You can't be leaving just because of that!" Harry insisted. "_Please_ don't go-you're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!"

Lupin smiled wryly, as if at his naivety. "This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents...They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could've bitten any of you, if it weren't for the efforts of Professor Kirkland and Sirius...That must never happen again."

Harry shook his head fiercely, not wanting to believe it. "Surely if you just explain the situation. Let these people meet you and see that you _aren't a bad person_, then maybe-"

"It doesn't work like that," Lupin interrupted softly, his voice sorrowful. "I've made a terrible lapse in judgement. People who are..._afflicted_, like myself...we don't _get_ second chances._ Usually_ we don't even get first chances-but I got lucky. That luck has clearly run out." He bent down and grabbed a stack of books from under the desk. He moved them next to the suitcase as well. "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned...Tell me about your Patronus."

"How d'you know about that?" Harry inquired distractedly.

"What else could've driven the Dementors back?" was Lupin's response.

And so, Harry told Lupin what had happened. When he'd finished, Lupin was smiling again.

"Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "You guessed right...that's why we called him 'Prongs'." He threw his last few books into his case, closed all the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry. He picked up the Marauders Map, hesitated, and then held it out to Harry. "I am no longer you teacher, so I don't need to feel guilty about giving this back to you. It's of no use to me, and I daresay you and your friends will find uses for it."

Harry took the map, and grinned lightly. "You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of the school...you siad they'd have thought it was funny."

"And so we would have," Lupin admitted shamelessly. He reached down to close his case. "I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle."

There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder's Map into his pocket.

It was Professor Kirkland. He didn't look all that surprised to see Harry there.

"Dumbledore has asked me to inform you that your carriage is at the gates, Remus," he reported neutrally.

"Thank you, Arthur," Lupin said, picking up his old suitcase and the empty Grindylow tank. "Well...goodbye, Harry," he said, smiling. "It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we'll meet again sometime." He turned to face Kirkland. "And thank you, Arthur, for just...being there, I suppose."

The blond professor inclined his head. "I will_ always_ be there. We'll be seeing each other again, Lupin. And don't forget to owl me. You may find future employment easier to find than you thought."

"Words do not express how grateful I am for that," Lupin said. He adjusted his grip on his suitcase. "No need to see me to the gates, Arthur, I can manage..."

The two men shook hands. With a final nod and a quick smile in Harry's direction, Lupin left the office.

Harry sat down in his vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the door close and looked up. Kirkland was still there.

"Why so miserable, Harry?" he asked quietly. "You should be _proud_ of yourself, especially after last night."

"It didn't make any difference," Harry responded bitterly. "Pettigrew got away."

Kirkland walked over to the desk and perched himself on the edge, crossing his arms. "But you _did_ make a difference, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate."

Terrible. Something stirred in Harry's memory. Greater and more terrible than ever before. "Professor Kirkland...yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very...very strange."

The professor raised one bushy eyebrow. "Stranger than usual, you mean?"

"Yes," Harry said, "her voice went all deep and raspy. Her eyes rolled behind her head and she said...she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight...She said the servant would help him come back to power." Harry stared up at Kirkland. "And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn't remember anything she'd said. Was it...was she making a real prediction?"

Kirkland thought about it. "I think...I think she might've been. She really _does_ have the Inner Eye, you know. She knew I wasn't human almost from the moment she saw me."

"You don't...sound all that worried," Harry observed cautiously. "I stopped Black from killing Pettigrew. Voldemort might_ actually_ come back."

"Of course I'm not worried," Kirkland said casually. "Has your experience with the Time-Turner taught you nothing? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed. Most of the time, a prediction never happens because they rely on conditions being _just right_ for them to take place. Professor Trelawney is proof of that...You did a noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's miserable life."

"But if he helps Voldemort get back into power...," Harry said, "then all of your efforts are for nothing. _Everyone's_ efforts are for nothing."

"I wouldn't say that," Kirkland assured. "You're still alive, are you not? Voldemort's not back-_trust me_, I would know if he was...and even if Voldemort _does_, at some point, actually return...I've been around for a long time. There are always men like him. Like the others, he will fall. People will die. But _his_ death will be one for the history books. As far as Pettigrew's concerned though...he owes his life to you. When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them...and I don't think Voldemort will want a deputy who's in debt to Harry Potter."

"I don't_ want_ a connection with Pettigrew!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "He betrayed my parents!"

Kirkland didn't look all that impressed by this sudden vehemence. "Well, it's there. So you'll just have to get over it. Besides, it may come in handy one day. Then you'll be _glad_ to have saved his life."

Harry couldn't imagine when that would be. Kirkland smirked as if he knew what the Gryffindor boy was thinking, but said nothing. He got up from the desk, crossed the room, and left the vacated office, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>Almost there, folks! Almost to the end! I have placed the final chapter up as well!<strong>

**Thanks for following, favoriting, and reviewing. Tell me what you think of this chapter, and then tell me what you think of the story in general for the final chapter!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	49. Chapter 49

Nobody at Hogwarts now knew the truth of what happened the night that Sirius, Buckbeak, and Pettigrew had vanished except Harry, Matthew, Hermione, Alfred, Ron, and Professors Dumbledore and Kirkland. As the end of the term approached, Harry heard many different theories as to what had really happened, but none of them came close to the truth.

Malfoy was convinced that Hagrid had let Buckbeak free, afraid of the threats Malfoy had made on behalf of his father. Percy Weasley, meanwhile, had much to say on the subject on Sirius's escape.

"If I manage to get into the Ministry, I'll have a lot of proposals to make about Magical Law Enforcement!" he told the only person who would listen. His girlfriend, Penelope.

Though the weather was perfect, and the atmosphere was cheerful, Harry had never approached the end of the school year in worse spirits.

He certainly wasn't the only one to see Professor Lupin go. The whole of Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation.

"Wonder what they'll give us next year?" Seamus Finnigan wondered gloomily.

"Maybe a vampire," Dean Thomas suggested hopefully.

Professor Lupin's departure wasn't the only thing weighing heavily on Harry's mind. Professor Trelawney's prediction still bothered him. Had Pettigrew gone to seek sanctuary with Voldemort yet? Alfred and Matthew had recently brought something else to his attention that made things even worse.

_"What classes are you signing up for, next year, Matthew?" Hermione asked. "Neither you or your brother had filled out your forms yet."_

_The Canadian shifted uncomfortably. Alfred rubbed the back of his head, looking down at his shoes._

_"Er...we might not be coming back next year," Matthew confessed quietly._

_Ron's jaw dropped in dismay. _"What?!"

_"We kinda have...responsibilities back home," Alfred elaborated sadly. "We'd love to come back. We really, _really _would...But we probably won't be able to. Our bosses are pissed that we disappeared for a whole year as it is."_

_Harry was devastated. Some of the best friends he'd made...and he'd never see them again._

_Hermione bit her lip, seeming to think about something. She looked at Matthew, and then she looked at Alfred. Her mind was made up. She rushed forward and enveloped them in a tight hug. "Well I expect you back. Maybe not next year, but if you don't come back to Hogwarts before we graduate then I'll will _go _to North America, find you both and _drag_ you back, kicking and screaming."_

_"Okay, okay, we promise to come back!" Matthew managed with a gasp._

_"I need air!" Alfred wheezed._

_She released them, gave them both a pointed look, turned on her heel, and marched off, leaving the four remaining Gryffindors in shock at her audacious outburst. _

Harry couldn't imagine life without Alfred and Matthew. But apparently, he was about to find out what it was like. But the thing that lowered Harry's spirits the_ most_, was the prospect of returning to the Dursleys. For maybe half an hour, a_ glorious _half hour, he had believed he would be living with Sirius from now on, the closest thing he had to getting his father back. And while no news of Sirius was good news, since the man was in hiding, Harry couldn't help feeling miserable when he though of the home he might have had, and the fact that it was now impossible.

* * *

><p>The exam results came out on the last day of the term. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Matthew, and Alfred had passed every subject. Harry was amazed that he'd gotten through Potions. He had a shrewd suspicion that Dumbledore might have stepped in to prevent Snape from failing him on purpose.<p>

Snape's behavior towards Harry the past week had been alarming to say the least. Somehow, his dislike for the boy had apparently increased exponentially. A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of the Professor's slim mouth every time he looked at Harry, and he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry's throat. This would always earn Snape a smooth, reproving glare from Matthew, or a challengingly raised eyebrow from Alfred, which made the severe teacher back off...but it still unnerved Harry to no end.

Percy had gotten his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; fred and George had scraped a handful of O.W.L.s each. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everyone celebrated. Even Harry managed to forget about the impending journey back to the Dursleys the next day as he ate, drank, talked, and laughed with the rest.

* * *

><p>As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione gave her friends some surprising news.<p>

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies."

"But you passed the exam with three hundred and twenty percent!" Ron exclaimed.

"I know," Hermione sighed, "but I can't stand another year like this one. Professor Kirkland was right about that Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I've handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I'll be able to have a normal schedule again."

"Good on you, girl!" Alfred said happily. "You'll need to hang with your friends more, anyway...since I won't be there to spread my awesome American-ness to you poor, deprived, British people."

"As your brother," Matthew said exasperatedly, "I advise you to shut up. We're still _in_ the United Kingdom, you know."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "People think I'm obtuse and ethnocentric. Who am I to prove them wrong by being _polite_?"

Harry disregarded this as he glanced out the window in time to see Hogwarts disappear behind a mountain. Two whole months before he'd see it again...

"Oh, cheer up, Harry!" Hermione pleaded sadly.

"I'm okay," Harry said quickly. "Just thinking about the holidays."

"So have I," Ron said. "Harry, you've got to come stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now-"

"A telephone, Ron," Hermione reminded. "Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year..."

Ron continued as if he hadn't heard. "It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

This proposal caused Harry's heart to feel much lighter. "Yeah...I bet the Dursleys'd be pleased to let me come... especially after what I did to Aunt Marge..."

Feeling considerably more cheerful, Harry joined his friends in several games of Exploding Snap. Their game was soon interrupted when Matthew peered over Harry's shoulder. "Um, Harry? What's that thing outside your window?"

Harry turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. He peered closer and saw what was possibly the tiniest owl to have ever lived. It was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that by the train's slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. It felt like a very fluffy Snitch. He carefully brought it inside.

The owl dropped its letter onto Harry's seat and zoomed around the compartment, apparently rather pleased with itself for having accomplished it's task. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval. Kumajirou eyed the small bird suspiciously for a moment, snorted, and turned over to resume his nap. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, tracking the tiny owl's movement with his great yellow eyes. Ron noticed this and snatched the owl out of harm's way.

Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, read the first few lines, and exclaimed, "It's from Sirius!"

"Read it aloud!" Alfred urged excitedly.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to the owl post._

_Buckbeak dropped me off and flew west...I assume he knows where he's going. I am now in hiding, but I won't tell you where, just in case this owl still falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

_I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

_There is something I never got to tell you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt-_

"Ha!" Hermione said triumphantly. "I _told_ you it was from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" Ron pointed out. "Ouch!" The tiny owl, now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.

_-Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

_ I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

_I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

_If you ever need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

_I'll write again soon._

_Sirius_

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly, feeling warm and contented as though he'd swallowed an entire bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp.

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" Harry said happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. "Hang on, there's a PS..."

_I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

Ron's eyes widened. "Keep him?" He regarded the cheerfully hooting owl uncertainly. Then , to everyone's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred in approval.

Ron nodded. "Good enough for me. He's mine."

* * *

><p>Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back to King's Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he and his friends stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. They were met with several surprising sights as they reentered the Muggle World.<p>

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, happy smiles on their faces at seeing Ron and Harry both returned safely. On the other side of the platform, however, were two men in somber black suits and shades, their hands at their sides and their shoulders tensed as if ready for anything. It reminded Harry of just about every espionage-spy movie Harry had ever managed to see. Professor Kirkland stood off to the side, his customarily grumpy expression belied by his relaxed posture. And there, in the middle of it all was Uncle Vernon, looking supremely uncomfortable with the whole thing.

Vernon's suspicions about the Weasleys were apparently confirmed when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting. His porkish face twisted unpleasantly, and he none-to-covertly beckoned for Harry to hurry up.

The two men in black walked forward and placed themselves at either side of Alfred. "Your flight to Washington D.C. has been arranged, sir."

"Why can't I return with my brother?" Alfred inquired.

The taller one answered, "Your boss expects you in his office within an hour of you disembarking your plane. We are to accompany you and ensure that you do not disappear again, as is your habit." He placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder as if to punctuate his point.

"I'm in trouble," Alfred guessed, "aren't I?"

"Yes, sir," the shorter one said. "You are in a_ whole lot of trouble_."

The American's shoulders sagged. "Crap..."

"A-Are you going to be alright, Alfred?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Oh, I'll be fine," the blond reassured. He brushed the guard's hand off. "Watch it, Quinn. Don't let my size fool you, because I can_ still_ throw your ass to Oregon from here."

"_Al_fred," Kirkland scolded. "Behave, it'll make things much less painful for all of us."

Uncle Vernon coughed. Loudly. Harry grimaced as he thought of the summer he had ahead of him. Alfred noticed this too, however. He pulled Harry into a suffocating hug. "Dude. Don't forget to call. Use the number I gave you." He pointedly eyed Vernon, who gulped. "And if you _ever_ need help...I know people. No matter what it is, I'll come. 'Kay?"

Harry nodded. That was all he could manage as his lungs begged for air. Alfred released him, and looked at his brother. "If they place me under house arrest, use whatever political jargon-filled excuse to get me out of there. Seriously, bro."

Matthew smiled impishly. "Oh, we'll see. I might be held up."

Before the American could answer, the shorter guard checked his watch. "We need to go. Now." He placed his hand on Alfred's back, and began steering him away. The other one, Quinn, fell into step behind them. They disappeared into the crowd.

Harry bid the rest of his friends goodbye.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron called as he was lead away.

It was just icing on the cake as Professor Kirkland came forward and actually shook Vernon's hand saying, "I am a professor at Hogwarts and I feel I should congratulate you. Harry's an incredibly bright boy, with lots of potential. You should be proud." He smirked, and walked off, Matthew on his heels.

Vernon noticed the envelope still clutched in Harry's hand and snarled, "If that's another form for me to sign, you've got another-"

"It's not," Harry said cheerfully. "It's a letter from my godfather!"

"_God_father?" Uncle Vernon sputtered. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have," Harry retorted brightly. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He like to keep in touch with me, though...keep up with my news...check if I'm happy..."

And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry set off toward the station exit, headed for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

* * *

><p><strong>AND IT'S DONE! DESPITE EVERYTHING THAT HAS STOOD IN MY WAY, THIS STORY IS NOW COMPLETE! HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!<strong>

**Expect the first chapter of Avatar: The Last Airbender x Hetalia soon. Or, if you don't like A:TLA...wait for the sequel to this story which will come later. But I will most likely be skipping Goblet of Fire and doing the Order of the Phoenix. AND I HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR THIS. Not because I don't have ideas for it, but because the twins' absence from Hogwarts during this year will be VERY IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT. **

**Thank you ALL for reading this story. And thank you ALL for showing your support by following, favoriting, and reviewing. Cue the loud announcer's voice, "WHAT IS YOUR FINAL VERDICT OF THIS STORY?" Tell me in a review!**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


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